


Blame the Vomit-Comet

by strawberrylemonade1225



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Halloween, Haunted Houses, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, So here we are, heeres where is starts, i saw a prompt and was like "YES", idk where this is gonna go but uh, so apparently, so uh, this happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrylemonade1225/pseuds/strawberrylemonade1225
Summary: Jeremy can't handle roller coasters: fact.He also can't handle haunted houses, but Christine forces him in one: also a fact.Jeremy was expecting to see and be rescued by one of the hottest dudes he's ever seen: NOT A FACT.





	1. Screaming Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow

“Oh, come on, Jeremy, you've never ridden it before, you can start now!” Christine whines, dragging Jeremy in the direction of the horrifying looking roller coaster. The boardwalk vibrates from the intensity of it, and he can hear some not so faint screams that have his face going pale. He makes a useless effort of trying to yank his hand out of Christine's grip and nervously laughs.

“Uh… I don't know, Chris, maybe not right now…” he says, and he sees her pout, rushing to try and fix it. “I swear to ride it once before we go, okay? Let's try something else f-first.”

Christine brightens up at that and lets go of him, beginning to march ahead, calling over her shoulder. “Then it's off to the Haunted Mansion!”

“Seriously? A haunted house? At night?!” Jeremy protests, running to catch up with her. True to his words, the night sky twinkled with stars, and Jeremy wondered where Brooke and Chloe had gone to before focusing on the matter at hand again. “C'mon, Christine, you know me.”

“I also know you're _desperate_ for a date mate, so maybe some pretty girl or boy will fall into your arms?”

Jeremy grumbled under his breath, his face going red. He thought that maybe the darkness hid his embarrassment, but that was the moment they reached the brightly lit outside of the Haunted Mansion. Jeremy noticed the long line and his pounding heart calmed if only a little. Meanwhile, Christine was bouncing up and down beside him, earning the amused looks from some kids in front of them.

_Okay, Jeremy, that kid in front of you is literally eleven, if they can do this, so can you,_ he told himself, trying to calm down a little. He looked ahead to the other people in his group, eight people in total. There were the four middle schoolers, him and Christine, and at the front were two teenagers. At least, Jeremy thought so with the back of their heads. There was one tall guy with brown hair wearing a black t-shirt with a red jacket tied around his waist and a much shorter dude to his right who was basically vibrating.

“Okay, so, scratch out the pretty girls idea,” Christine says, observing as well. She turns to Jeremy with a smile and shrugs. “At least you're flexible.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but I really prefer girls- holy shit, he's hot.”

The person in question is the tall guy in front. He turns around to look at the crowd behind him, probably seeing who he was going into the attraction with, and Jeremy just stared.

The guy is really hot, Jeremy realizes, watching as his lips turn into a pout and he squints from behind dorky looking glasses. Jeremy is suddenly glad for the clumps of people waiting behind him, even though he usually hates the closeness, because it means the guy has less of a chance of seeing Jeremy staring with his jaw dropped open. Oh. Oh, wait. The guy's looking back.

Jeremy, what are you doing, the guy is literally staring at you staring at him. Oh, okay, now he's grinning and nudging his short friend, which glances back as well.

Jeremy seems to snap out of his trance because his eyes dart to the ground and he covers his face with his hand. Christine whistles from beside him and he groans.

“The action plan from here is to just fall into his arms like a damsel in distress!” she cheers and Jeremy nudges her with his elbow, whining a little.

“We've been in this line for a total of two minutes and I already embarrassed myself. Remind me why I go outside?”

Christine just laughs and pulls him forward as the line moves up. He shys a glance towards the front and notices two things.

1\. They're up next for the attraction, line shorter than he first thought, and Jeremy's heart races, his palms slick with sweat.  
2\. Tall guy is facing his friend at a profile, mouth stretched into a grin, crinkling his eyes, and he fist pumps, and now Jeremy is nervous for more reasons than the scares waiting ahead.

“Oh, God, today is going to be the day I _die.”_

***

They get into the haunted house, and Jeremy's eyes immediately catch on the broken (fake) vases and the skeleton of a butler just chilling in the corner. Out of reflex, he grips onto Christine's arm, already shaking a little bit. The dudes in the front are laughing, pointing at the tacky ripped paintings, and the middle schoolers are making snarky comments.

It is then that Jeremy realizes that they're at the back of the group. It is then that Jeremy also realizes that means that they will be subjected to a, the scariest chases, and b, workers _touching_ them.

He was actually going to die.

His eyes shift around the entire place, and they also land on Christine, who has calmly been walking beside him. He sees how her energy is barely contained, and how he's been holding her back by holding her arm, and he makes what he may classify one of the stupidest decisions of his life.

“You can go on ahead if… if you want,” he tells her, letting on and increasing twisting his fingers into the hem of his own shirt.

“What? But you're-”

“Chris,” Jeremy cuts her off, smiling. “Seriously, I'll be okay. I'm a big boy. Besides, there are other people here with me!”

Christine hesitates for a while before giving in, offering Jeremy a small smile and skipping towards the front, and Jeremy just walks with the group in the back, his breath catching at every loud noise/scary prop, heart in his throat.

At one point, he doesn't know what happens. He hears something behind him, something like footsteps while they're in a hallway. His instincts kick in, and he's ducking into the doorway, crouching and covering his head with his hands.

Well, that turned out to be the right decision. A few seconds later, the group screams and they start running. Jeremy's actually going to cry.

(At this point, he was so freaked out that his mind blanked on the fact that this was fake and he wasn't actually in danger. His mind was just screaming get me out and he really regretted even coming in.)

After a minute or two, he comes out of his hiding place.

He… extremely misjudged the cons and pros between running _with_ the group, or hiding by _himself._

Jeremy looks all around, eyes already thankfully adjusted to the dark. He sees the fake blood on the walls and the broken windows, no sign of anyone else around, and that little fact spiked his anxiety.

“Ch… Chris?” he chances, calling down the hall where everyone ran. He gets nothing in response. He gulps and tried to calm himself down.

“Okay, Jeremy, you're all alone in a… haunted house. It's fake. Just follow the path, and you'll be fine. C'mon, you're eighteen now, you can handle this,” he mutters, starting to walk down the eerily silent hall. His eyes are darting around everywhere, scanning anything that looks suspicious, and his hands are drawn up to his chest.

There's a loud clatter behind him, tapping of feet and dripping water. He yelped and spun around, feeling his body shake.

_Oh, God, why'd I agree to come in here?_

Like a fool, he decides to continue walking, now walking backward and watching where he had come from. He continues on like that, actually feeling slightly secure until-

He bumps into something. Something warm and bigger than him that makes an “ugh” sound when he hits it. His mind flashed back to a horror movie he was watching with his dad a few nights ago. The protagonist was being chased by a monster, and when she hid, the camera angle changed to show the… monster was right… behind her.

Jeremy shrieks. He never knew he could hit notes that high. Also, he's pretty sure he's crying.

He swivels around and jumps back against the wall. The monster-person-thing is yelling back, body tensed and hands up in a surrendering pose, and it's just a huge yelling match. The person slowly goes from yelling to asking loud questions.

“Woah, are you okay?! Please stop screaming, what's wrong?!”

Jeremy's yelling dies out slowly as his eyes adjust once again, and he scans the person's face.

(He was right about the crying thing. There are tears everywhere.)

Oh. Oh _no._

_I just screamed in the face of the hottest dude my age I've ever seen,_ Jeremy thinks, and as that thought presses down, his hope of maybe just getting a friend that night fizzles out and he presses his hands to his face, groaning lowly and sliding down the wall until he's sitting.

“Hey, hey, what's wrong?” the guy asks again, his voice much softer and Jeremy whines a little as the thought of “his voice sounds so nice” flickers in his mind.

“I hate haunted houses,” he admits, voice small. He feels the guys eyes on him. “And I just yelled in the face of a really- of a stranger.”

He hears the guy shuffle closer, and he risks peeking between his fingers. The guys reached out, grabbing his wrists and gently pulls his hands away from his face to see Jeremy's face. He offers a small smile and Jeremy just sniffled pathetically, just wanting to go back to the boardwalk.

“That's okay, you were freaked out. I'm Michael, by the way,” Michael says, still holding Jeremy's wrists. “There. We aren't strangers anymore. What's your name?”

“Jer… Jeremy.”

“Now, Jeremy, do you want to get the fuck out of this place?”

Jeremy nods and Michael stands, pulling Jeremy up with him. Then Jeremy has a realization that has him narrowing his eyes at Michael.

“Why were you still in here? Everyone ran.”

Michael seems to fumble for an answer for a second before giving it. “I, uh… hid. I got scared.”

“... right.”

They begin to walk down the dreaded hallway, and Michael must sense Jeremy's lingering fear and he stops them and untied the jacket from around his waist, holding it to Jeremy. Jeremy's face mirrors the color of the jacket and just looks at Michael with a confused expression.

“I know you're still scared, so take my jacket. You can pull up the hood and tighten the strings so you feel a bit safer, or something,” Michael tells him, voice becoming quieter towards the end.

_Jeremy. This hot, really sweet dude is offering you his jacket. Underline “hot”, “sweet”, and “offering”._

Jeremy swipes the jacket nearly aggressively and yanks it on. He drowns in it, being tall and lanky, and it smells like weed and chocolate. It's not what Jeremy was expecting, but it's also perfect.

He rolls up the sleeves a little bit and pulls up the hood, pulling the strings to tighten it a bit, and true to Michael's word, he does feel a little safer. He turns to Michael to tell him just that, but Michael is just staring at him slack jawed.

“... Michael?” he asks tentatively, and that propels Michael into action, grinning easily and holding his arm out for Jeremy.

“Here, grab my arm to be sure we'll stick together.” Jeremy's pretty sure they wouldn't wander too far away from each other in the first place, but he grabs his arm anyway, more like hugging it, and sticks close. “O-Oh. Um. Yeah. I've been in the haunted house a billion times; I'll warn you whenever any scares come up.”

They start walking through, and Jeremy's hiding half his face with Michael's arm, Michael warning him whenever a scare or a loud noise would trigger, belting a line from a song, and Jeremy would burst into laughter.

He hears something clack behind them as they turn a corner and Michael just. Yells.

“I wanna dance with somebody!” the boy sing-shouts, barely covering up the horrified recorded screaming. Jeremy doesn't know what he's meant to be more scared of, but he does know he starts laughing.

There's a rumbling noise. “Hey, I just met you!”

“I came in like a wrecking ball!” Michael screams, voice faltering towards the end from joining Jeremy in his laughter.

By the time the stumbled out the house, Jeremy was wheezing with laughter, wiping the corners of his eyes with his jacket sleeves. He's rather reluctant to let go of Michael, but he doesn't get a choice in the matter, cause a few seconds after they walk out, Christine launched herself at him, hugging him and yelling.

_“What happened?!”_ she screams, and Jeremy awkwardly pats her back, looking at Michael with wide eyes that say “help”. Michael just smirks and walks over to talk to his friend who was standing nearby. Christine pulls off of him, pointing a finger in his face.

“I _knew_ I shouldn't have left you in the back alone! You had me worried sick!” Christine huffs heavily, putting down her hands, crossing her arms. “I turn around, all like, ‘Wow, that was scary’, and there’s no Jeremy! Good thing Mr. Tall Hot Dude, according to you, stayed in there too!”

Jeremy can feel Michael's eyes on him at the nickname but he ignores it, keeping his eyes locked on Christine. He shrinks back a little, hiding in the jacket, and Christine sighs.

“Well, at least you're okay. You'll be happy to hear that we won't be going back into it anytime soon,” she says and Jeremy shakes his head.

“Don't restrict yourself because I'm a scare-”

“I got banned from it,” she replied bluntly, almost proud.

“Yo, mad respect for this girl,” the short guy says, walking over to the two of them with Michael. He quickly introduces himself as Rich before continuing. “I've learned new words today to insult people.”

“Great, that's what you need,” Michael says and Rich gives him a look.

“They described my insults as… colorful and creative. I tried to get back in to go get you, and they wouldn't let me, and next thing I know, I'm climbing onto a box and yelling at them.”

Jeremy just doesn't say anything for a few seconds before he breaks down into laughter again. “You-you fucking _would._ ”

Christine grins wide again, grabbing onto his arm. “Vomit-Comet now?”

“Christine, I literally just had to be saved from a haunted house like a damsel in distress. Can we just do bumper cars or _something_ else?”

She pouts but gives in. “Fine. Only cause you're still very sweaty.”

He grumbled, face reddening a little. Christine let's go of his arm then, and he steps back a little, bumping into someone.

“Please don't tell me you're going to scream again,” Michael says and Jeremy spins around, smiling at him sweetly. Michael's looking at him with soft eyes and he feels strangely more vulnerable here than he did in the haunted house.

“Nah, sorry, not this time.”

“Ah, dammit.” Michael shifts a little, glancing away and shoving up his glasses a little. “So… you guys are gonna… go now?”

“Thank you for everything,” Jeremy says, avoiding the question. Michael grins and shrugs, looking back at him. “And, uh… yeah, I guess. Unless you and your friend plan on joining us on the bumper cars…?”

Jeremy leaves the offer open, smiling slightly. His heart deflates a little when Michael slowly shakes his head “no”.

“Me and him were supposed to meet up with friends by the Vomit-Comet…” Michael pulls out his phone and his eyes widen a little. “Ten minutes ago, wow, okay. Hopefully, we'll bump into each other on a ride later?”

_God dammit, now I really regret saying no._

“... Hopefully,” Jeremy replies, and silence falls between them. Making a split second decision, he leans forward and loops his arms around Michael's neck, hugging him tightly. Michael freezes up for a second before hugging back.

When Jeremy pulls away, he hears Michael start talking but he doesn't let him finish, grabbing Christine's wrist and dragging her away at a fast speed due to his embarrassment. She willingly goes along, laughing at Jeremy the whole time.

“Jere’s got a cruuush!” she sing-songs, skipping alongside him when they're walking at a normal pace. Jeremy shrinks into the jacket a bit more, pulling up the hood again.

“Shut up, I do not! Michael just so happens to be a really cute boy who saved me from demons.”

“Oh, and _I'm_ dramatic,” she teases. She stops skipping, walking normally and leans forward a bit to give him a look with a smirk on her face. “A first name basis, eh?”

“Stop. It's not like I'm gonna see him again soon…” the realization is a little harsh.

“Uh, uh, Jeremy, I wouldn't say that,” Christine announces, standing up straight again and turning her face to the sky.

“That makes it sound like you're planning on kidnapping him, and while I know you're capable, I'd rather you not-”

“You didn't bring a hoodie with you to the boardwalk. Especially not one with a gay pride patch, seeing as you are bi.”

Jeremy suddenly realizes that there is, in fact, a hoodie that does not belong to him still on his body. He yanks down the hood and sighs heavily.

“I scream in his face and steal his hoodie,” he says, and Christine just says “of course you did” when he mentions the screaming part. “I bet I made a _fantastic_ impression.”

***

“Rich, I'm going to scream, he's _so_ cute.”

“Hm. He couldn't have been that-”

“Jake Dillinger. Sleepy. Sweater paws with his varsity jacket." Michael pauses for dramatic effect. _"Smiling.”_

_“Holy shit,”_ Rich wheezes and Michael nods.

“This dude was _hugging_ my _arm.”_

“Here lies Michael Mell. Cause of death: extreme levels of gay.”

_“Extreme.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was,,, supposed to be a oneshot,,,,,


	2. Senior Year!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School's back in session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yawns violently* hi

On September fourth, Jeremy's alarm blares, scaring him out of sleep so bad that he falls out of his bed. He hits the wooden floor with a thump and a groan, laying there for a few moments, letting the dizziness fade out and leave him with a dull pain. Nice.

He sits up, slowly standing, and he stretches, resisting decking his alarm to just calmly turn it off. He sighs happily as the room goes quiet.

And then the gateways to anxiety are open and his body is flooded with keyed up nerves.

Oh boy, oh boy. First day of _senior year._

He couldn't mess around anymore, no; this was the “pathway to his future” (a direct quote from his dad).

He checks the time, groaning when he realizes just how much time he took thinking and settles for a plain t-shirt, jeans, and converse.

Jeremy fusses with his hair for a bit, feeling annoyance creep in when there's this _one curl_ that won't stay down and gives up, looking around his room.

He's trying to find a cardigan or a sweater or _something_ to make this outfit a little less boring when he sees it.

Cute boardwalk boy’s hoodie. That he still has.

(He honestly felt a little guilty about it. First, he yells in his face, then he soaks his shirt with tears, finishing it out by stealing his hoodie. He… didn't feel as guilty as he really should though, loving how it felt, putting it on occasionally whenever he was cold. It slowly began to start smelling like his own house, and that's when he felt guiltier.)

Jeremy decides to pull it on, hoping that Michael even goes to his high school, to begin with. If that came true, he hoped that Michael would see a flash of red in the crowd and see his hoodie on someone who wasn't himself and come up to Jeremy.

 _Dreams are meant for sleeping, idiot,_ he thinks and he pulls the hoodie over his head. He smiles in the mirror and grabs his bag, frowning when he sees the ever existing writing of “bit” on it and rushed out his door.

(“‘Bit’? What does that even mean?”

Christine slowly lifts her bag, putting it against Jeremy's. Together, their bags spell “bitches”.

“I hate this school.”)

He arrives at school a little early and walks inside and into the theater. True to his expectations, Christine is already on the stage, skipping around and grinning wide.

He dumps his bag on a chair near the front and walks up the stairs to the stage, approaching Christine. She grins even wider and skips over to him. “Hi! It's so awesome to be back!”

“Eh.” He shrugs, casting a glance around the room. “Summer could always be nine months longer.”

Christine waves him off and walks to the other end of the stage, taking a deep breath. “Smells like Shakespeare.”

“What does pretentious and confusing smell like?” Jeremy asks and Christine shoots him a cutting edge glare. And then she smirks.

“Well, I can tell you what bisexual and pining smells like,” she says, walking towards Jeremy and wafting his air in her direction. “Jeremy, are you wearing that to impress your _boyfriend?”_

“I- he- I just wanna see if he goes here or not!” He justifies, and Christine nods in understanding. Her eyes go a little sad, though.

“I've never seen him here before, and you know how I can remember faces,” she admits and Jeremy nods, looking down at his feet. “Hey, do you still have ‘bit' on your bag?”

Jeremy brightens up with the change in subject and nods, Christine's face darkening a little. “Frickin’ Dustin. Ruining things.”

Jeremy awkwardly forces out a laugh, looking to the side. He doesn't say anything again, rocking on his feet. Thankfully Christine, always the talker, keeps the conversation going.

“Chloe’s throwing a back to school party this weekend. The sleepover part is exclusive for me, you, and Brooke.”

Jeremy shrugs a shoulder, messing with one of the hoodie strings. “I don't know if I really wanna go. You know how I get at parties.”

Christine nods sympathetically, and the bell rings overhead. She hops off the stage and soon follows Jeremy (taking the stairs, like a good civilian), and grabs his bag. “What's your homeroom class?”

“Uhh… oh, fuck me, math,” he says, unfolding his schedule and Christine laughs.

“I've got sign language. Sucks to suck, Jeremy!”

“Shut it!”

Christine skips ahead, disappearing into the flow of students outside of the theater. Jeremy takes a second to breathe before stepping out too, and looking over everyone's heads that he could, hoping to see that one boardwalk boy.

***

Jeremy hasn't always been friends with the two most popular girls in school, and the most popular girl in drama. In fact, this was still relatively new; he became their friends right before Junior Year began.

He had a different group of friends before it crumbled horribly, a group of losers like him.

They were made up of four outcasts that didn't have much in common except the fact that no one else wanted to be their friend.

Jeremy doesn't talk to them anymore. He's glad about that, seeing as how two of them became total assholes and one of them just disappeared off the face of the Earth after insulting him.

Plus, that group got him into some really serious shit. If it wasn't for Christine, it would've gotten worse. If it wasn't for her, he would've-

… Anyway.

Jeremy wishes that that last friend hadn't just left like that. He has no idea what happened to him, and he doesn't want to think that he… he died… but it's the only option he can think of that makes some kind of sense. The two of them were the closest out if everyone in that group, and then for him to just go with no warning hurt like hell. Especially after-

Anyway!

Christine and the others saved him from the hell he had been living. If that meant he had to suffer through a few (a billion) times getting his makeup done, or having his shoulder cried on while Christine wails, “That's nothing like the book!”, well, then he'd put up with it.

Even if he and Chloe weren't the closest, and even if people looked at him with jealous eyes because of his friends, he'd put up with it.

After all, Jeremy has a place where he can finally belong.

***

Lunch comes, and with it, Jeremy is super jumpy.

He sits down at the table and his leg is forever bouncing. He pulls the hoodie sleeves over his hands and sighs heavily, the turnout so far seeming like Michael _didn't_ go to their school. What was he thinking?

Chloe arrives, bringing a group of people with her. Jeremy scoots towards the end of the table, a bit uncomfortable. It's not exactly a rare occasion, but it still makes him uncomfortable. As he's sliding towards the edge, he looks out, over the tables, and his eyes catch on a boy with blonde hair and a red streak and he jumps up.

_Rich! Rich was with Michael!_

Before he knows it, he's walking over to Rich, who is sitting at a table with… oh, God, with Jake Dillinger and Jenna Roland. Two popular kids that scared Jeremy shitless.

 _Fuck it,_ Jeremy thinks, walking up with balled up fists and stops at the end of Rich’s table, smile on face.

“H-Hey, Rich? It's your… first day here, right?” Jeremy stutters out, catching the attention of the whole table (three people). Rich whips his head towards him, though. Jeremy can't really read the expression on his face before he eyes Jeremy up and down and smirks.

“You're just here for Michael, aren't you?” Rich asks, leaning his chin into his hand. His finger taps against the side of his face.

Jeremy blushed and looked away. “I was, um… I was hoping you could point me in his direction?”

Rich laughs then, and he stands up. “Alright. Follow me.”

Jeremy's surprised by how easy that was, nerves melting away and being replaced with excitement and shyness. Rich begins walking and talking, Jeremy struggling to keep up with the pace.

“It's his first day here too, Heere, so be easy on him.”

Jeremy spluttered before his brain highlighted one small detail. “Wha- How do you know my last name?”

“I- uh-” Rich starts, but he covers it with a laugh and looks at Jeremy out of the corner of his eye. “Dude, you're apparently some kinda _legend_ in this place. How could I not know?”

Jeremy groaned at the news and rubbed his temples. Before he knew it, they were in the outside lunch area. Rich pointed over to a bench against the side of the school, and sure enough, Jeremy saw Michael sitting there, eyes on a book in his hands and headphones on.

“It isn't my place to tell you, but he doesn't like huge crowds like that-” Rich gestures to the inside eating area “-so he'll probably be out here a lot. We used to go to a private school.”

Jeremy thanked Rich and watched him practically run back to the table. _Man, that guy is energetic._

Jeremy takes a deep breath before he walks over to the bench confidently. Well, sorta. Michael must have the music pumped all the way up, seeing as how his eyes don't even lift from the book in his hands. Jeremy takes a second to think before he leans over and taps Michael's shoulder.

“Rich, if you are interrupting my reading for something stupid again, I swear I'll-” Michael says, pulling off his headphones and looking up. Jeremy steps back and rubs the back of his neck. Waving and smiling shyly. Michael's words cut off as he just looks at Jeremy before a wide grin appears on his own face. “I'm almost not mad that you took my jacket for a month.”

Michael stands up and Jeremy is hit once again with the thought of wow, he is _tall._

“Sorry about that,” Jeremy says, stuffing his hands in the pocket and glancing away. “I guess I liked it so much I just… forgot I was wearing it.”

Jeremy awkwardly laughs at the end. _Was that flirting? Did I successfully flirt with this guy?_

Michael smirked, closing his book and dropping it onto the bench. “Speaking of which, why are you wearing it now?”

“Oh!” Jeremy yanks it off and hands it over to Michael who takes it gratefully and ties it around his waist. “I was… kinda hoping you'd see it and… come talk to me if we… just so happened to go to the same school.”

Michael chuckles a little and he runs a hand through his hair. “Well, here I am!”

His voice cracks on the word “am”, and he looks like he saw a ghost with how wide his eyes go. The voice crack shows Jeremy that under the cool exterior, he's just as nervous, and that observation makes him laugh for some reason.

Michael joins him in laughing, and it dissolves after a few seconds. Michael's eyes light up, and he reaches into his back pocket of his jeans ( _black tight jeans, Jesus Christ_ ) and pulls out a sharpie and looks at Jeremy with raised eyebrows. “Can I?”

“Uh- Yeah!” Jeremy nods, and Michael smiles wider, grabbing his arm and writing across his forearm a series of numbers and when it registers in Jeremy's mind that it's a _phone number_ , a warm, happy feeling washes over him.

“I never got the chance to give it to you back on the boardwalk. You ran away so fast.”

“Um- sorry for that! I was… _super_ excited for those bumper cars, haha.”

Michael just gives him a look before recapping the sharpie and putting it in his back pocket. He looks satisfied with himself for a few seconds before his face just drops and he smacks himself on the forehead. “I made a whole deal of being extra when you probably have your phone on you right now.”

As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his back pocket. Jeremy tries to hold in a laugh and snorts, catching Michael's attention, and he doesn't even try to hide his laughter.

“Ugh, I'm gonna go before I embarrass myself more,” Jeremy groans, backing away, waving. “See you around?”

“Totally. Be seeing you!”

Michael sits back down, pulling on the headphones and diving right back into his book, a smile on his face this time, however.

Jeremy enters the cafeteria, walking to his table and sitting down next to Christine and across from Brooke, which shakes them out of their conversation. Christine looks over and her eyes widen a little.

“Where's the hoodie?”

“With its owner.”

“Oh, that Michael guy goes here?” Brooke asks, clapping her hands lightly. She and Chloe had heard an earful about Michael from Jeremy when they had gotten into the car that night.

“Guys, when dorky tall cute boys eventually kill me, please tell everyone about how I cool I was at the funeral.”

Jeremy thunks his head down on the table, sighing happily and blushing.

It was an _awesome_ day.

***

**me: Is this Michael?**  
**me: It's Jeremy!**

**Unknown Number: what *is* Michael, really?**  
**Unknown Number: and how is a Jeremy?**

**me: :////**  
**me: Hi, Michael**

**Michael☆: hey, Jeremy!!!**  
**Michael☆: now my hoodie smells like vanilla laundry detergent and axe cologne, so thanks for that**

Jeremy's typing back a reply, smile curling his lips when Michael sends another message.

**Michael☆: that was a weird thing to say lol**

**me: That's okay!! Believe me, I've said weirder!**  
**me: Remember that you belted pop song lyrics to make me feel safe,,,,**

**Michael☆: well, it worked, so !!!!**  
**Michael☆: hey, remember when I said I hid cause I was scared ?**  
**Michael☆: …..that was a lie**

That catches Jeremy's attention and he doesn't type anything. His phone shows that Michael's typing, yet he keeps erasing it. He eventually does send the message, though.

**Michael☆: I kinda looked back as we ran, and didn't see you running with us, so I made a split second decision and ducked into a doorway and hid away cause I knew I wouldn't be able to come back in if I ran all the way out**

Jeremy's heart thumps in his chest and his face goes red. He bites down on his lower lip and kind of wishes that this wasn't happening on a packed bus. At least he was sitting in a seat by himself in the very back.

**me: aaaaWWWWW**

**Michael☆: HUSH JERRY CAN**

**me: pffft**

**Michael☆: i regret coming clean to you i gotta go now**

Michael does actually leave then, seeing as how Jeremy texts him back and Michael doesn't even read it. Jeremy turns off his phone and sighs softly, leaning back in his seat.

He leans his head against the window like in a teen love movie and quickly pulls away when his skull and teeth vibrate from the bumps and settled for slouching and staring at the ceiling instead.

That worked just as well as the head-against-window cheesiness for Jeremy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now's where the real plot kicks in


	3. Lunch... Date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch, DDR, and half a tragic backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to ao3 for fuxking up my formatting :)))))

One month after reuniting with Michael after the boardwalk and Michael asks Jeremy out on a date.

Well, actually, Michael texted Jeremy and asked him if he wanted to meet up at a diner in town for lunch on a Saturday, and Jeremy decided to treat it as a date even though it was just a hang-out session at the most.

Dressed in a checkered oversized cardigan, a black shirt, and black skinny jeans, Jeremy walks into the diner full of false confidence and looks around, trying to find where Michael is. He hears a call of “over here!”, and he turns to see Michael smiling and waving his hand. Jeremy walks over and sits in the booth across from him.

“Glad you could make it,” Michael greets him with, smiling still, and Jeremy's heart feels a little light. He brushes a lock of hair behind his ear and smiles himself.

“Glad you asked me to come,” he replied and Michael let out a short breathy laugh. Soon enough later, a waitress walks over and asks what they'd like to drink. They both get cokes, and when she walks away, Michael looks around and smiles.

“For as long as I've lived in this town, you'd think I would've visited this place more.” He absentmindedly clicks a salt shaker against the tabletop in a rhythm. “This is my dad's favorite place to eat.”

“Speaking of which,” Jeremy starts before his drink is placed in front of him. He thanks the waitress and she walks away, giving them time to think of what to get. “What made you decide to go to lousy old public school instead of private school?”

“How did you- oh, probably Rich.” Michael takes a sip of his own drink and launches into storytelling mode.

***

_**Junior Year** _

Michael tugged at the collar around his neck and groaned. _Only one year left of this hell,_ he told himself each day he entered the uncomfortably small classroom and took his seat near the back. Thankfully, though, Rich was in his classes, and he made them all that more tolerable.

(Not to mention, the kid was funny as hell. It was one thing when the teachers could tell he had bleached all his hair, but an entirely other thing when he dyed a chunk of hair red, styled into a streak. They were all bug-eyed all day, and Michael's pretty sure he laughed out a lung as well.)

Speaking of the devil, Rich entered the class, and Michael could tell by the shoulders up by his ears and the slight stomp to his walk that he was _pissed._

Rich clattered down into his seat and swivels to face Michael.

“I want to get the _fuck_ out of this school,” he grunts, anger evident in his voice. “Who the hell thought private school was a good idea?!”

“Probably some nerd who hated public school,” Michael answers, scratching at the sweater. It was _June_ , why was this still a requirement to wear? “What happened?”

“Everyone here is either some preppy asshole or have a stick so far up their ass that it's coming out their _mouth,”_ he mutters and Michael snorts and glances back over at him.

“Tell me about it. Elaborate?”

“Just… I wish no one knew why I'm really coming here, you know? This wouldn't have been such a big deal if this was public school.”

“Yeah, but dude, you had to have known that everyone here would be talking about it.” Michael shifts to sit up higher and sighs when the sweater rides up more. “It's not every day that someone who went to _rehab_ for _drugs_ is accepted here.”

“You smoke weed,” Rich pointed out and Michael shrugged.

“I've been in private school for a majority of my life, except, like, one year in middle school. I know how to hide that shit.”

“I want to switch back to public school.”

“Believe me, so do I,” Michael admits, and Rich’s face lights up. A slow grin forms and he clenches his fists, looking excited.

“If you can convince your mom to take you out and put you into public school for senior year, I'll convince mine to do the same.”

Michael grins himself and slouched a little. “Done and done, Goranski. My mom asks practically every day if I want to be in public school instead.”

“Righteous!” Rich fist pumps and Michael thinks that this is the happiest he's ever seen Rich. Rich leans a little forward in his seat again. “Oh, my God, you'll get to meet Jake!”

“Your boyfriend-not-boyfriend?” Michael asks, and Rich nods rapidly. “Oh boy. I can't wait to meet all your friends.”

Rich’s face darkens a little and the corner of his mouth turns down. Before Michael can comment on it, he's grinning again, cheeks pushing up and crinkling his eyes.

Yep. This was the happiest he's ever seen him.

“I'm so stoked, dude! We should go to the boardwalk to celebrate!”

***

“Basically, Rich came up to me one day all pissed and convinced me to transfer to public school with him,” is what Michael tells him. Jeremy nods and Michael continues. “It's our last year in high school so I just thought ‘what the hell, let's do it!’”

Jeremy laughs a little at that. Michael goes on to say more, but the waitress comes back then and interrupts them. Jeremy barely holds back from scowling at her since he knows this is her job, but it's still difficult.

Michael ends up getting chicken fingers, and Jeremy, having been too distracted to even think about his order, just blurts out, “grilled cheese!”. She nods and walks off again, and Jeremy turns towards Michael, who's smiling a little, but hiding it with his hand.

“Wha-What?” Jeremy asks, face flushing a little. Michael looks away, smiling growing.

“You're cute when you're annoyed,” he tells him, and Jeremy responds very intelligently.

“Hhhh.”

Michael laughs loudly then, and Jeremy looks down at the table. _Really, brain, “hhhh”?_

“So, you're in drama, right? Have you always been an actor?” Michael asks, switching the topic. The topic change relaxed Jeremy, ready to talk about something he's passionate about.

***

Ever since he was little, Jeremy's loved acting.

He was forced to join the drama club in his school when he was in second grade by his mom. He pouted and whined, but he soon fell in love with it. Even though he was still small and admittedly really bad, he couldn't get enough of it.

So he continued on with it, and nothing could stop him.

Shyness? The only people who knew him that saw the show were other drama kids and his parents. If other peers came to see the show, they most likely would have no idea who he was.

Depression and anxiety? His therapist says that acting is an awesome way to express yourself if you don't like keeping a journal!

Literally anything else? No. Fuck you, acting is Jeremy's thing, don't take it away from him.

Hitting high school was spectacular, in Jeremy's book. Yes, he was more stressed, and yes, he was at a high point in puberty. Yes, he was still being bullied, and yes, he still had only three close(ish) friends, but at least he still had friends.

The change the high school was just so tremendous because this school actually took drama and theater with some level of seriousness that other schools had lacked. You actually had to audition to get into this play.

Jeremy was stoked.

He auditioned and he got a minor role, still excited anyway. He practiced day and night, and he blew his performance as “clumsy student #1” out of the water. He got a larger role in the spring show and got to rehearse with _Christine Canigula,_ a girl he had been crushing on for the majority of middle school.

Jeremy's performance in the winter showing Sophomore year definitely wasn't his strongest, and he completely missed the spring show. His group of friends had disbanded about a week before the show so he just tried to push through the pain, but then things got even shittier, so he dropped out of the show altogether.

Since then, he has gone to another acting camp and redeemed himself in Junior year, and he really can't wait for the upcoming year.

He had a feeling that something _awesome_ was going to happen.

***

Jeremy tells Michael the whole story, completely zoning out and talking kind of fast and with overflowing passion. He's talking with his hands, and he's pretty sure his eyes are wide as well, and when he realizes how much he had been talking, he cuts himself off and blushed, looking down.

“I was… talking your ear off,” Jeremy says, laughing awkwardly and rubbing his neck. “I'm-”

“Don't apologize! I like listening to you!” Michael reassures, lifting a fry to his mouth. Michael drops it back onto the plate as his cheeks go a little pink. “Uhh…”

Jeremy smiles slightly, face even redder than before. He picks at his sandwich a little and a silence falls between them before Michael breaks it again.

“So!” That voice crack was _horrific._ Michael actually pales a little, but he pushes through. “You mentioned that things were rough in Sophomore year? What happened… if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jeremy’s stomach twists and turns over a bit. He drops the sandwich and fiddles with his greasy hands in his lap, looking at them. After a few moments of gathering his confidence, he lets out a shuddering breath and lifts his eyes to look at a now concerned Michael.

“I’ve always been a loser. I don’t fit in all that well, and three other kids are like me, well, were like me back in sixth grade, so we all kind of came together. There was Dustin, me, Madeline, and Rocky,” Jeremy starts, counting them off on his fingers. He swallows air and peers at Michael through his fingers. “Our friend group broke apart with a bang in Sophomore year, which was hell.”

“Rocky and I were the closest in that group, he was a really chill dude. He didn’t talk all that much, but neither did I, and we both liked video games, so that worked out really well. We hung out all the time, whether with the group or by ourselves.” Jeremy takes a shaky breath in, shaky breath out. The next part will be rough. “I guess he never really did tell me much about himself; he was so secretive. I never really knew the ‘real’ Rocky.”

“He, uh, he… he was acting standoffish, so I confronted him, and he shoved me back so hard I fell down and looked up into the eyes of this really quiet kid as he shouted at me, really hurtful shit. He looked… _terrified._ After that, he turned and ran away, and I never saw him again, and… oh, God, I’m sorry-”

Jeremy cuts himself off, pulling a sleeve down a little bit so it covers the back of his hand and uses it to wipe his eyes as they tear up. He sniffles from behind the sleeve, and Michael reaches over and gently holds his wrist, pulling it down. Jeremy looks at him with blurry eyes to see his concerned expression, mouth slightly pouting and furrowed eyebrows. Jeremy subconsciously registers the fact that Michael is rubbing the inside of his wrist with his thumb.

“Hey, hey, don’t apologize for getting upset, Jer,” he mumbles, sort of like a coo. The softness of his voice eases the tension in Jeremy’s body ever so slightly, and Michael’s hand slides down until he wraps Jeremy’s hand with his own. “I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”

Jeremy’s eyes are still rather watery. He shrugs one shoulder and wiggles his fingers a little, looking away. “I just… I don’t know, Michael. I hope he’s okay wherever he is now.”

Michael doesn’t answer verbally, instead just letting one side of his lips curl upwards a bit, eyes fond. Jeremy doesn’t say anything either, just pulls his hand out of Michael’s hold to intertwine their fingers and squeezing his hand tightly. Michael’s expression just goes even softer, and Jeremy’s heart is absolutely putty.

_Jesus Christ, this is so cheesy. I fucking love it._

He lifts his drink and tilts it towards Michael a little. “Besides, I’ve got you, Christine, Brooke, Chloe, and possibly even Rich in my life now, so I’ve got everything I could ever ask for.”

Michael lifts his own cup. “I’ll drink to that!”

And so they do.

***

“You piece of shit. You... piece of absolute…  _shit!”_

Jeremy collapses against the machine and pants heavily on the 2D dancer still pumped up and dancing energetically. Their optimism and preppiness made him seeth out of rage, but that may also be from Michael Mell on the machine next to him laughing a hefty laugh and clutching his stomach. Jeremy glared at him out of the corner of his eye and is glad he had the exertion of the video game to blame for his red face.

Michael whips off his hoodie and lays it over a banister to his side, pulling at his shirt and stretching a little. He turns towards Jeremy and _oh, of course the dork is wearing a World of Warcraft shirt._ He tilts his head to the side, grin lopsided, and speaks.

“DDR got you tired? This is what you get for being a twig!” he says, and Jeremy stands up straight, narrowing his eyes at Michael. _This is canceled,_ he thinks, shaking his head, _he’s too good at everything._

“Hm. Not really. My momma just loves dancing, taught me everything I know.”

Jeremy flushes when he realizes that he said his thoughts out loud and clears his throat, stretching his arms across his body and cracking his neck. Ow.

“I’ll have you know that I am not a twig, Michael.”

“Oh, right, sorry. A twink.”

“A… twink? Isn’t that-” Jeremy’s mind suddenly takes a pleasant trip to pornville, where he remembers the few days where he searched up gay porn, and “twink” was a reoccurring word in the titles. His face flushes more violent, dying his ears and neck in red. “-oh my god.”

Michael looks curious at his reaction to the title, eyes widening a little behind his glasses, and Jeremy’s (twink) heart skips a beat. Michael just shrugs it off and pushes another dollar’s worth of quarters into the machine. Jeremy follows after mumbling complaints for a few seconds.

“I’ll go easy on you this time, okay? Right, right, left-”

_Thump._

“Jeremy?!”

“Ow,” Jeremy groans, rubbing his ass as he stands up. “I, uh, I tripped over my… foot.”

Michael just stares for a few seconds before calmly pausing the game and promptly laughing his ass off. Jeremy just stares at him with uncorked rage, plotting his revenge in his head.

(He doesn’t mention the part when Michael leans over, hands on his knees and he looks up at Jeremy, looking through his lashes, and face flushed, cause otherwise, he’d go too soft to get revenge.)

***

Michael pulls his car to a stop outside of Jeremy’s house, smiling over at him. He switches his car off and gets out, pulling Jeremy’s door open for him. Jeremy gets out, smiling wide, and digs into his pocket for his keys as they walk up to his door. They stand awkwardly outside of his door as Jeremy unlocks it. He leaves his keys in the lock and he turns back to face Michael.

“Thank you for an… _awesome_ day,” Jeremy admits shyly, looking away and at the pretty purple-pink sky from the setting sun. “I was just going to stick around my house in pajamas all day if you hadn’t texted.”

Michael presses a hand to his chest, mouth dropping open. “Awe, you changed your plans just for _little old me?”_

“Shut up, you jerk!” Jeremy says, swatting at his arm, and Michael breathily laughs. “Would you, uh, maybe want to stay for dinner?”

“I’d love to, but my mom’s inviting her girlfriend over for dinner, and it’s a requirement for her favorite son to be there,” Michael says, a smile on his face, and Jeremy nods. Michael pushes up his glasses and Jeremy chews on his lower lip a little, sighing and looking at him again before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around his neck like a while ago.

Michael's own arms wrap around his waist, pushing under the checkered cardigan. He makes a humming noise, and Jeremy smiles at the way he can feel the vibration of Michael’s chest.

He pulls away, and then, making a split decision, he leans in and kisses Michael's cheek before saying out a rushed “bye!” and grabbing his keys from the lock and disappearing behind his front door.

He lets out a weird wheezing noise and slides down against said door, sitting on the floor and stupidly knocking his head against the door a little too hard when he leans it backward. Then, he gets up way too fast, and his head is left spinning.

It's worth the headrush, though, when he peeks out the window and sees Michael doing a little victory dance back to his car.

God, what a _dork._


	4. Who's Ready for My Halloween Party?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a Halloween party, confusing boys, and bitchy girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zombie boyfriends

So.

Jeremy gets invited to Jake Dillinger’s Halloween party. He gets actually legitimately invited to a party planned by one of the most popular kids in his school.

(Well, he doesn't know if it's an invite to the _actual party,_ or just an elaborate prank. The second option seems more likely.)

He's sorting through his locker in the morning one day when he feels someone tap his shoulder. He turns around and comes face to face with Richard Goranski.

(Him and Rich were pretty chill with each other by this point. Jeremy just wished that Rich stopped being so… _confusing_.)

Rich held out an envelope with two fingers, and Jeremy slowly took it, squinting a little. Rich seemed to be either nervous or really wired up, seeing as he kept shifting from foot to foot and he immediately clasped his arms behind his back after Jeremy took the envelope. Jeremy opens the envelope and pulls out the slip of paper inside, eyes going huge when he reads what it says.

“No way,” he breathed, eyes skating over the words. He quickly turns to look at Rich, and Rich is grinning hugely.

“Yes way, Jer!” He's bouncy again, fist pumping a little. “Be there or be square!”

Jeremy hesitated for a bit, staring down at the envelope before sighing and looking over at Rich, who seems to be buzzing with barely concealed excitement. “Fine. I’ll… I’ll go.”

Rich makes a “woo” sound before launching himself at Jeremy and hugging him. Jeremy is stunned into silence, completely tensed up and staring at Rich with wide eyes. Rich himself seems to realize something because he pulls off completely and backs up about five feet, shaky grin still on his face.

“That was weird!” He exclaims, eyes shifting between both of Jeremy’s before he begins walking down the hall, shouting back at Jeremy. “See you there, dude!”

Jeremy keeps his eyes on Rich, the kid beginning to run right as he was finishing his second sentence. Jeremy’s thoughts were racing, having no idea how to interpret that enter situation. Geez, he knew Rich was a confusing person, but this was a whole new high. He felt like there was something more to him, but he had no idea what it was, and he didn’t think he’d ever know.

Hm.

Jeremy folded up the envelope and shoved it in his back pocket, slamming his locker closed and just staring at it, one thought standing out clearly, contrasting the mess of half-thoughts.

_He reminds me of someone._

Jeremy couldn’t put his finger on _who,_ exactly, but he knew that he knew someone like Rich.

But who?

***

After a long and difficult debate on what to go to the party dressed as, he picks a zombie.

Now, he wasn't any generic zombie, _oh no_ , he was dressed as the boss for level five of Apocalypse of the Damned, meaning he was a rock and roll zombie.

Completed with his hair gelled up in a sort of Mohawk, a ripped up leather jacket with studs, jeans with chains, a white tank-top, and plenty of fake blood smeared on him, Jeremy gets a ride from his dad to the party. The entire ride there, his heart is pounding in his chest and his legs are shaking.

By the time they get there, Jeremy’s not sure if his legs will support his weight, but he gets out anyway and thanks his dad for the ride. His dad gives him a curfew and tells him to “have fun but not too much fun” before driving off, and Jeremy stares up at the house, blowing out a breath. He was decently early so that he knew there wouldn’t be too many people there yet, but soon enough, the house would be packed to the brim with sweaty, horny, teenagers.

Fun.

He walked up to the door and knocked, Chloe swinging it open. She grinned at Jeremy and went to give him a hug before noticing all the blood. She grimaced and backed off a bit. Jeremy walked in and saw that she was dressed as Poison Ivy, leaving Jeremy to believe that Brooke was somewhere in the house dressed as Harley Quinn. Nice.

“Hey, Jer, you know how you have a mega crush on that new Michael kid?” Chloe blurted out, her red painted lips curling up into a mischievous smile and Jeremy blushed, feeling flustered.

“Y-Yeah. What’s it to you?” Jeremy questioned defensively. Chloe chuckled and pointed a finger towards the kitchen.

“Well, turns out that loverboy’s friends with Jake. Meaning, he’s in the kitchen, just waiting,” she informs him, and Jeremy’s jaw drops open, gaze flickering over to the archway to the kitchen. “He looks really bored, Jer, bet he wishes you were there.”  
  
Jeremy made a bunch of unintelligible sounds, swatting at her until she backed off with a loud laugh. He watched her walk off before he let out yet another shaky breath and made his way into the kitchen.

At least, that was the plan. He made it to about the kitchen archway, where he saw Michael, in all his glory, leaning against the counter, sipping a water bottle. Jeremy went ramrod straight as his thoughts went not so straight, heat flaring up in his face, leaving his face as red as the fake blood.

Now, the Apocalypse of the Damned had a kind of iffy storyline, with some romance in there too. One of the said romances was with the rock and roll zombie boss from level five (Jeremy) and the geek zombie boss from level six (... Michael?).

Holy shit. _Michael._

Michael was standing there, chatting with someone, dressed as the geek zombie. He was wearing a ripped Star Wars t-shirt with suspenders, one hanging off his shoulder. He had bloody khaki shorts on and comically large glasses. Fake scars littered his face, and his hair was mussed. Jeremy stood there, jaw dropped again, as more thoughts raced through his head, the majority of them definitely not okay to think aloud.

He suddenly remembered the line the geek zombie screams at the player when you reach him.

_“You killed my fucking boyfriend!”_

Jeremy was going to burst, this was too much to take all at once.

Michael’s eyes are suddenly locked on Jeremy’s and Jeremy swallows around the lump in his throat, raising his hand for a kind of pathetic wave. Michael suddenly grins, setting down his water bottle and coming over to Jeremy, hugging him hard. Jeremy reacts instantly, hugging back, practically melting into Michael.

_God dammit, I’m so into him._

Michael pulls back, hands still holding onto Jeremy’s shoulders. Michael gives Jeremy a once over, Jeremy squirming under his eyes, and he laughs. He meets Jeremy’s eyes again, his own eyes seeming to sparkle and his cheeks a little red.

“Zombie boyfriends!” He bursts out. Michael backs up a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s a sign?”

Jeremy, even more flustered and high off a sudden boost in confidence, puts on his best flirtatious look. “Maybe it is, Michael.”

Michael blushes harder at that and visibly swallows. Jeremy feels like that was a mission successful despite his racing heart and sweaty palms. Michael goes back to where he was, leaning against the counters near the person, and Jeremy follows, standing closer to him than usual because of the confidence still lingering. He looks at the person that Michael was talking to and all of his confidence fades out, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and his heart at his feet. Ignoring this, he forces out words.

“Oh. Hey, Madeline.”

***

Jeremy has had one girlfriend in his life, and that girlfriend's name was Madeline Chevrolet.

Before they were dating, they were just friends. Slowly, time went on, and slowly, Jeremy's… brain convinced him to ask her out and date her.

Originally, he told himself that he was dating her for social gain, and while that was horrible, he was pretty sure that she was doing the same. The thing is… Jeremy actually fell for her. Hard.

He still had a crush on Christine, but as the likelihood of him actually dating her dwindled further and further down, his feelings grew more and more for Madeline until it was a mountain of love that he carried on his back everywhere he went.

So, they were happy together. Or so he thought.

They dated from the end of freshman year to April in sophomore year. Jeremy let himself become convinced that she loved him as well, his full heart blinding the truth from his eyes.

He went to her house one day, out of the blue. He let himself in, remembering Madeline’s sweet smile and her saying “come over whenever!”

He walked up the stairs and towards her room. He saw the door open, pouring light into the dim hallway, and he smiled, making his way for the room. There was the sound of shuffling sheets, and Jeremy just figured she was tossing and turning on the bed.

He was so wrong.

He entered the room to see her half-dressed and straddling his “best friend”, Dustin. They were making out as Jeremy felt his heart crack and be yanked apart by the hands of Madeline and Dustin. Madeline dug her acrylic nails into her half.

“What the _fuck?!”_ he cried, not able to stop himself. Madeline springs away, nearly tumbling off the bed, and Jeremy can't stop himself from wishing that she had fallen. Dustin sits up, and Dustin’s hand clenches around his half of Jeremy's heart when Jeremy sees the smudged pink lipstick on his lips and neck. “What the actual _fuck?!”_

Madeline blows a strand of hair out of her face, and she… smiles. “I thought we were in an open relationship, Jer-bear.”

“No. No, we weren't,” he confirms, and his eyes are pricking with tears, and his throat clenched around his heart, leaving a painful lump. “We were not, and you fucking knew that.”

“‘Weren't?’” Dustin echoes and Jeremy nods, pressing his lips together.

“Not anymore. Fuck the both of you!”

Jeremy storms out the house then, tears freely falling by then. He begins walking home, but he doesn’t really want to go home then. He walks to a nearby park instead, glad when he sees how deserted it is, and he sits on a swing, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jer… Jeremy?” he hears a quiet call, and Jeremy peeks between his fingers to see Rocky walking towards him. The kid is clutching a book to his chest, messenger bag bouncing on his leg as he walked closer. By the time Rocky reaches him, his eyes blow wide and he drops the book, hurrying to kneel in front of Jeremy. “Jeremy, oh my God!”

He hugs him, and Jeremy lets a sob tear its way from his throat, hugging him tightly. Rocky pets his hair soothingly and Jeremy cries louder, mumbling a lot of things, none of it making even a bit of sense.

At least he felt some sense of comfort, some sense of happiness while hugging Rocky in that park. At least his actual best friend was there for him and help his heart seal back together, even a little bit.

How was Jeremy supposed to know that not even two full weeks later, all of that would be torn off of him, taking all of his hope for a meaningful life with it?

***

“Jeremy! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Madeline croons. She’s dressed as a vampire, although a sexy one (shocking). Her lips are a midnight black color and she has fake fangs in, and Jeremy laughs a little internally when his brain connects it to her being a snake.

(Jeremy’s extremely bitter towards Madeline, which makes sense. It’d be wise to prepare yourself for a series of angry thoughts.)

“Yeah. There’s a reason to that,” he bites out, leaning more towards Michael. He can feel Michael’s eyes on him, but he ignores it, staring at Madeline. Madeline sighs sadly and tosses hair over her shoulder. Jeremy hates that his brain points out that it's gotten a lot longer.

“You're not still upset about that, are you?” she doesn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation even though she's the one speaking. She inspects the ends of her red hair. “I said I was sorry.”

Jeremy shrugs one shoulder, looking to his side and out to the living room. He feels Michael pull on the sleeve of his jacket, and Jeremy refuses to look at him.

“Oh, come on, you had to have known that nothing between us was serious! You're being petty.”

Jeremy counts to ten inside his head to calm himself down. If he blows up here, he'll just be ripping open old wounds, plus making a fool of himself, and he really couldn't have that happening.

He just stands there as Madeline continues, trembling slightly and staring down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. Michael wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side, and Jeremy feels a little bit safer. A voice slices through Madeline’s tirade, full of bubbling over anger.

“Aye, _fuck off_ , will you?”

Jeremy’s head whips to face the source of the voice, and he’s met with an enraged Rich. Rich looks absolutely _murderous_ , and the fake blood splashed on his all-white costume only makes him scarier. Jake, who’s standing by his side, even looks scared of him.

Rich walks up to her, jabbing her in the chest. “Can you just go and suck Dustin’s microscopic dick or something? Maybe then you’ll _shut the fuck up_ for once.”

Madeline looks severely offended and she puffs up her chest, looking at Jake with pleading eyes. “Jake! A little help with this gremlin?”

Jake himself looks confused. Jeremy knows that Rich is Jake’s number one best friend through Michael, though, so as soon as the insult “gremlin” makes its way past her lips, Jake himself looks pissed off.

“Get the _hell_ out of my house,” he states bluntly, pointing behind himself. Madeline just stares at him with a shocked expression, and Jeremy can’t help the ball of emotion welling up in his chest. He had an entire group of people defending him that wasn’t Christine, Chloe, or Brooke. And none of them even had a grudge against her.

Madeline shoves past Rich and out the kitchen. Jeremy just stands still in shock until Rich turns around with a soft concerned expression on his face.

“You alright, dude?” He asks, and the corner of his lips turn down a little. “I, uh, I heard that she cheated on you with Dustin. You know. From Jenna.”

Jeremy smiles down at him, breathing heavily as the pressure of the situation lifts off his chest.  
“I, um, I- thank you so much, guys.”

  
Michael just pulls him even closer, hand squeezing his shoulder for a second. Jake just cracks open a can of beer and drinks some, wandering back out to the living room. Rich just looks confused.

“What are you thanking me for? I didn’t do anything-” Rich’s eyes go enormous and he lifts the mask in his hands to his face, strapping it on so that Jeremy can’t see his expression anymore. Rich’s voice comes out muffled afterward. “I mean! You’re welcome!”

And he runs out after Jake.

“That was weird,” Michael breathes out and Jeremy nods, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips.

He really had to get to the bottom of what was up with Rich.

***

Michael had found a ladder of Jake’s back porch an hour later. By relation, that meant that he and Jeremy _totally_ had to climb onto Jake’s roof and party like cool kids.

“Party” meant lay down and stare up at the night sky.

“Cool kids” meant two geeky boys dressed as a zombie couple unintentionally.

They were chatting idly, not staying on one topic itself. Jeremy felt a lot happier than he did earlier, heart light and full. He was really crushing hard on Michael.

Jeremy actually allowed his heart blind him again in this relationship they didn’t have yet. This… whatever this was… felt a whole lot more fulfilling than the ten-month relationship he had with Madeline felt like, and they had only been friends for about two months.

Jeremy connected easily with Michael, Michael clicking into his life like that one missing puzzle piece in the center of it all. Not to be cheesy and cliche, but Jeremy really felt whole now that Michael was there for him.  
  
(Goddammit, that was cliche anyway.)

Jeremy had never felt this strongly for someone else, and he wasn’t even _in love_ with the guy.

… Yet.

Love was… scary for Jeremy, especially considering how the first attempt at love had gone. He didn’t know how long it’d take for him to fall for Michael, but he knew he definitely would unless Michael’s personality pulls a total 180 degrees and he ditches him for no reason.

(... where are you, Rocky?)

Michael’s voice, sounding serious, cut through his thoughts.

“I’m so glad I met you, you know that, Jeremy?” he says, and Jeremy turns his head to look at him. Michael’s still staring up at the sky, eyebrows furrowed. Jeremy knows that look.

Fear.

Jeremy reaches over and holds the hand that Michael has between them. Michael gasps and turns to look at him, and Jeremy keeps the eye contact, lifting Michael’s hand up and kissing the back of it, smiling against the skin.

“I’m glad I met you too, Michael.”

Yeah.

Jeremy was going to fall in love Michael.

He just didn’t know when, how or why, but he knew he would.

He’d just give it a little time.


	5. Brownies and Drug Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brownies, dorky boys, and the lead-up to the second half of the backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bleh

A whole two months later, Jeremy is standing outside of Michael's door, shivering, and waiting for Michael to answer. Michael invited him over, and Jeremy doesn't believe the only reason he's shaking is because of the cold.

The door does get opened, but not by who he expected. Instead, a kid opens the door, staring up at Jeremy with wide eyes, and Jeremy, not knowing what to do, stares back with his hand still raised to knock again.

The kid suddenly smirks and cups his hands around his mouth, turning and shouting into the house.

“Michael!” he shouts, and Jeremy hears Michael yell back, and he smiles.

(Wow. Pine much?)

“Your boyfriend's here!”

And suddenly the smile’s gone and Jeremy is blushing heavily, the jittery feeling is amplified by one hundred.

Michael rushed out from one of the room, swatting at the kid, who snickered and ran off. Michael shouted something like “brat” after him, before he turned to face Jeremy, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A shaky smile appeared on his face, and he waved slightly.

“Lit-little brothers, am I right?” he greets, and Jeremy feels that same random surge of confidence he always seems to feel around Michael, so he tilts his head slightly and smiles.

“‘Boyfriend’, huh?” he asks, and Michael's mouth opened and closed, his posture going tense as he laughed awkwardly.

“I-I don't know where he, uh, where he got something like that.”

“Oh.” _Come on, Jeremy, you are a flirting master, you can do this. Super suave, woo him._ “Cause I mouldn’t wind.”

Jeremy's pretty sure he saw his life flash before his eyes, not to be dramatic. His face goes redder and he stares at Michael's face. Michael seems a bit nervous under his stare, but he smiled confusedly.

“What?”

“I, uh, um, I mean- yeah.” _Smooth, Jeremy. Smooth._ Jeremy kicks at the ground. “... Can I come in?”

“Oh! Right!” Michael moves out of the doorway and gestures for Jeremy to enter. After he does, Michael closes and locks to door after him. “So… what do you want to do? We could just… play video games or something.”

Jeremy shrugged off his coat and hung it on the coat rack. He also pulled off his shoes and left them by the door, following Michael deeper into the house.

“Video games sounds good,” Jeremy replies, looking at the picture frames hung up around the house. His eyes caught on a family picture and he tuned out of what Michael was saying, just staring at the frame.

It showed Michael in a school uniform with his apparent younger brother pouting beside him in the same uniform. There's an older man in between the two, an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Did you know I was only fourteen in that picture?” Michael asks suddenly, and Jeremy jumps, feeling guilty for some reason. Michael doesn't seem to notice; he takes down the picture and holds it so the two of them could see. “Anthony, my brother, was seven here. Poor loser is still stuck in private school.”

“Was private school really that bad?” Jeremy asks, looking over at Michael. Michael just continues staring at the picture, and his hands clench a little. The whitening of his knuckles catches Jeremy’s attention.

“It… wasn’t the best. Could’ve been worse.” Michael hangs the picture back up at looks at Jeremy with a grin. “So… video games?”

“Video games.”

“Video games!”

***

_**Summer before Sophomore Year** _

Rocky brushed the long brown hair out of his eyes and peered at Jeremy. His teeth worried his lower lip, flashing his braces.

“Are you- are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks, and Jeremy waves a hand as if to say “don’t worry”. He takes a deep breath as he jumps off the top of the slide, landing on his feet before abruptly falling over and face planting into the wood chips. Jeremy hears Rocky yelp, also hearing the crunch under his sneakers as he rushed over.

“What did I tell you, moron?!”

Jeremy sits up, spitting out a mouthful of wood chins, grinning. “Insulting the injured? Low blow.”

Rocky huffs and his eyes dart all over Jeremy’s body, looking for any other traces of injury. His face is a little scraped up, but he looks fine otherwise.

“If you weren’t my friend, I’d hit you.”

“Well, good thing I _am_ your friend!”

“Yeah.” Rocky laughs. _“For now.”_

***

“Michael! Mom wants to meet your boyfriend!” Anthony called from the top of the stares and Jeremy dropped the controller, hearing the whump as it hit the bean bag chair. Michael just yelled back at him before standing up and brushing off the front of his jeans. He walks over to Jeremy, holding his hand out for him, and Jeremy uses it to pull himself up.

Jeremy keeps holding onto his hand for a bit longer than necessary, holding it as they walk to the stairs, and he lets go only after Michael gives him a small smile over his shoulder.

_Jeremy, if you play your cards right, he’ll ask you out by the end of today._

He cleared his mind of all thoughts and just follows Michael up the stairs, seeing a woman standing at the kitchen counter with a mug raised to her lips. The mug says “#1 Soccer Mom” on it, and now Jeremy's wondering if it's just a joke, or one of her kids legitimately played soccer. Oh, now he's imagining Michael playing soccer.

Oh. Oh, that's a nice thought.

The woman, Michael's mom, sets down the mug and walks up to him with a friendly smile. He still feels nervous anyway, looking down at her, but not by a lot. Wow, was the whole Mell family tall?

“Ah, the infamous Jeremy,” she greets and Jeremy awkwardly laughs and shoots her finger guns.

_(Goddammit, Christine, you did this to me.)_

“The e-elusive Ms. Mell…?” he responds, and she laughs, ruffling up his hair and walking back over to the counter.

“Mom test passed!” she says, and some of the tension lifts off Jeremy’s chest for some reason. That all happened so fast, he doesn’t even know what he did to pass the test. “Actually, wait, one more thing.”

Oh no. Oh no, he fucked up, he’s going to be banned from-

“Have you ever baked before?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Cool.” A box is thrown their way, and Michael caught it. He flips over the box so they can see the front, and Michael groans when he sees it, giving his mom a look.

“Really? Brownies? At three in the afternoon?”

She shrugs one shoulder, a smile pulling at her lips. “Well, why not? Me and Anthony want brownies, and I sure as hell am not making them.”

“That’s a dollar for the swear jar!” Anthony calls, and Jeremy laughs a little. Ms. Mell grumbles under her breath and walks out of the kitchen with her mug, digging a dollar out of her pocket. Michael turns to Jeremy with a small smile on his face, shaking the box a little.

“Ready to be master chefs?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

***

**_Freshman Year, June_ **

“So,” Jeremy starts, eyes focused on the television as Rocky’s character beats the life out of him. Madeline is lounging on the couch behind them, and Dustin is currently in the kitchen getting something. “What is your real name? Rocky’s a nickname, right?”

Rocky hums to acknowledge him, and that's the end of that until the game over flashes, signaling that Rocky beat him. Finally, the kid turns his head to face him, eyes a little wide, but he always looks like that. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, I mean, you know all of our names.” He gestures around the room as Dustin walks back in. “I just wanted to know yours, you know, get to know you better.”

“You really want to know?” The game goes back to the “pick your character” screen, and Jeremy goes with a monstrous looking ape creature.

He nods his head, anticipation building up in his gut.

“Fine. I guess I knew it would come to this one day.” Rocky looks at him, brushing away his hair so Jeremy can see both his eyes. The moment feels intense.

“It's Rockington the third.”

Dustin spits out his soda from behind them, laughing hard, and Madeline just pulls away, disgusted. Jeremy joins in on the laughter, and Rocky half-heartedly shoves his shoulder.

“My name's not important. Just remember me as ‘that cool kid named Rocky’. What a legacy.”

***

Jeremy slides the tray into the oven, clapping his hands as he stands up straight and sets a timer. He backs away from the oven and high fives Michael, who’s smiling wide. He picks up the bowl of leftover brownie mix and grabs a spoon, scooping some and eating it, and Jeremy whacks his hand.

“Salmonella? Ring any bells?” he asks and Michael shrugs, setting down the bowl on the counter and grabbing another spoon, holding it out to Jeremy, and Jeremy snatches it. “Sign me up.”

He scoops some of his own and pops it into his mouth, smiling happily. Michael doesn’t say anything, grabbing a napkin and putting his spoon on it.

“Jeremy?” he starts hesitantly, and Jeremy hums. Michael takes a shuddering breath, and Jeremy’s heartbeat picks up because _holy shit, is he gonna do it?_

“So, say, hypothetically-” The start disappoints Jeremy, and he drops his spoon into the sink, sighing out his nose “-that a nerd… geek? That a nerdy-geeky boy was to... kiss you… what would you do?”

Jeremy’s face grows red as Michael purposely avoids his eyes, staring at the sink.

Jeremy struggles to find his words, a tornado of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation roaring inside of him. He tries to conceal his excitement, but the shakiness of his voice gives him away.

“I’d ask- I’d ask what took him so long,” he replies, and Michael looks up at him with wide eyes. Jeremy presses his lips into a shaky smile, and Michael lets out a breath that Jeremy didn’t even know he was holding. “Then I’d ask why he was taking so long right now.”

Michael takes the hint, lifting his hands to Jeremy’s face, cupping it, and Jeremy leans into one of the hands. Michael gives him a dopey grin, and Jeremy’s own smile becomes more stable at the gesture. Michael begins leaning in, and Jeremy assists him by balling his fist in the collar of his t-shirt, pulling him those last few inches to kiss him _finally._

Jeremy tilts his head into the kiss, and he feels Michael practically melt. He lifts his own hands to cup Michael’s face, thumb rubbing his cheek, and one hand sliding down to his shoulder. The kiss is amazing, and Jeremy just hopes it feels as good to Michael as it does to him as they slowly pull away from one another.

Michael lets out a weird sort of giggle, which triggers Jeremy to laugh in his face before turning his face downwards. Michael pinches his cheek, drawing his face up to kiss him again.

Jeremy could stay there forever, warm and comfortable kissing Michael in his kitchen. It’s like nothing else at the moment matters, nothing can touch him. Cheating girlfriends don’t exist, drug addictions don’t exist, missing best friends, dysfunctional families, bullies, and hateful people don’t exist. All that exists is Michael and Jeremy.

(If… If Michael were to ask Jeremy something along the lines of “hypothetically, do you think you’ll ever be in love with the nerdy-geeky boy that kissed you”, his answer, at this point and time, would be an unwavering “yes”.)

Michael breaks the kiss for a second to breathe before invading Jeremy’s space again, pushing him against the counter, and Jeremy goes with it, jolting when Michael wraps his arms around his waist, making Michael laugh against his mouth, and Jeremy pulls away to glare when Michael’s too busy laughing to kiss him properly.

It’s awkward. It’s _amazing._

It’s them.

They’re broken apart soon after by the loud buzzing of Jeremy’s phone in his pocket. Michael whines when he pulls away to check it, and Jeremy just swats at him, causing him to chuckle.

“It’s… a text from Rich?” he announces, opening his messenger app to see who he received a text from, and yep, it was Rich.

“You guys talk now?” Michael inquires curiously, looking over his shoulder and at the screen. Jeremy shivers pleasantly when Michael wraps his arms around him again, dropping his chin on his shoulder.

“Not too often. Not at all over text, actually,” Jeremy admits, a little nervous to open it. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me.”

“Sweetie, if he didn’t like you, _you’d know,”_ Michael tells him, and the shiver that time isn’t as pleasant.

“Ominous.”

He finally caves in and opens it, reading over the words a few times, disbelief filling his gut.

**Rich: meet me at the park by the lake. i have some info u would like to know. about late freshman year-sophomore end, specifically.**

“Did you two go to the same school in freshman and sophomore year?” Michael asks, breaking Jeremy out of his trance, and he shakes his head.

_Oh God, oh God, just how much did he know?_

“I don’t remember him being there,” Jeremy says, voice low. “He’s pretty hard to miss, I mean; bleached hair, red streak, outrageous burn scars, etcetera.”

“Maybe he looked different? I mean, from what he’s told me, he got his scars at the end of sophomore year, along with bleaching his hair at the beginning of junior.”

“He’s been acting so suspicious lately, so… weird around me, I should’ve known that he knew _something,”_ Jeremy mumbled aloud, mostly talking to himself. “That’s-that’s behind me, but what if- what if he knows something about Rocky?”

The oven blares, announcing the brownies are done, but that noise barely pierces through the thoughts swirling around his head.

_Rich. Rich… have I heard that name before I met him and Michael? Was I close to a “Rich”? I only had Madeline, Dustin, and… Rocky. Rocky… Rich… “R”... are they related? Do they even look alike?_

“Jeremiah!”

Jeremy jumps, looking at Michael, who’s standing in front of him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Jeremy leans his forehead into Michael’s chest, taking a deep breath.

“I can… I’ll give you a ride to the park; I can see this is super important to you,” Michael tells him, petting his hair soothingly, and Jeremy just nods slightly, his pulse racing.

Jeremy tries to focus on the chill in the kitchen, the rumbling of Michael’s chest as he talks, the smell of brownies, anything else to get his head out of this dark, confused state, but nothing works. Nothing at all works.

He just needs to meet Rich and find out what he had to say.

***

Jeremy kisses Michael before hopping out of his car, beginning his journey into the park. Michael beeps his horn, and Jeremy twists his body to face him again, and Michael’s leaning out the window.

“Want me to wait here?” he yells, and Jeremy gives him a thumbs up before turning back around.

Lucky for him, the park isn’t huge. Unlucky for him, that gives him less time to think through everything he needs to think through and calm himself down. Before he knows it, he’s come face to face with the infamous, suspicious Richard Goranski.

He’s sitting on the swing, feet digging into the wood chips underneath his feet, twisting the swing chains in his hands, a wide-eyed expression directed at the ground. His face looks dark, and his posture is horrible. Something is eating at him inside, and Jeremy needs to find out what, especially considering it includes himself.

He walks over, sitting on the swing beside him, and Rich whips his head over to look at him. He had been so invested in whatever was happening in his head to notice Jeremy coming over, Jeremy figures.

Jeremy can’t muster up his courage to face Rich as well, so he leans back in the swing, digging his heels into the wood chips to keep him upright, already feeling a chill seeping into his bones.

(It really wasn't the kind of weather where you want to sit outside and have a lovely chat with your friendly local teenager rebel.)

“... Hi, Jeremy,” Rich meekly greets, his own feet digging in further. He’s nervous, and honestly pretty scared, but he also knows things from the past, Jeremy’s past, so Jeremy can’t find it in himself to care too much about Rich’s comfort level.

Jeremy never knew that a fucking haunted house attraction and his cowardice would domino effect into things like _this._

By the lack of his response, Rich sighs and kicks his foot, looking down at it, speaking up again. “You… you want me to explain, right?”

Jeremy nods, definitely not trusting his voice at the moment. His mind buzzes with possibilities of what Rich could say, what Rich might know, what’s even going on.

Rich clears his throat, and Jeremy draws in a breath and holds in, on the edge of his seat.

“I-I… I…”

Rich stops himself, drawing in his own breath and letting it out before facing Jeremy again.

“I know what happened to your friend Rocky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my mental state is!! down the toilet, so!! sorry if this sucks!!!


	6. Rocky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never trust the mints that come in heart-shaped tins.

Rocky is a loser.

Grade A, 100% loser.

He's got the look: long brown hair that covers one eye, acne, braces, and dorky clothes. He's also skinny and short.

He's got the social skills: he ducks his head and speed walks through halls, bit risking to stop and greet anyone. It's not like he had friends to greet anyway.

He also has the vibe of a weirdo because he's never seen without some sort of jacket or sweatshirt on, even in summer.

(Little do people know that it's to hide bruises from when his dad visits.)

((Oh God, people would think it's even weirder if it got out that he's living with his uncle. Dysfunctional fucking family.))

So, all in all, eighth grade comes, and Rocky pretty much hates his life. It sucks so much, and he just really wants to graduate from school so he can move on with his life and maybe actually become useful.

What he didn't expect, however, was to be approached by someone. And be offered a _friendship._

It's November and during lunch. Rocky gets his lunch and lets out a shuddering breath when he looks over the tables. He sees an empty one in the far corner, and he thanks every God out there, walking quickly over to it and sitting down, beginning to eat.

(“You're too skinny.” His dad shoves the spoon into his mouth, causing him to gag and his teeth to hurt. “Fucking- eat it!”)

That lasts for a total of one minute until the table suddenly has three other residents, one of which, sitting _right next to him._

He thinks they're going to bully him, but they… don't. They're just talking to each other and not bothering Rocky, so Rocky takes that time to observe and maybe investigate who they are a little bit.

The girl sitting across from him is tan with red hair that comes down to her shoulders. She has a sparkly pink headband holding it back and thick glasses on her face. The boy beside her has dirty blonde hair and green eyes, and he's having a debate with the guy next to Rocky. Tuning into the conversation, Rocky thinks it's over… conspiracy theories?

Rocky turns to the boy next to him and just stares with wide eyes. The kid has curly brown hair and acne on his face, along with a few light freckles. He's currently drowning in a white sweater, and he seems to be sweating with a red face.

“Aye, Jeremy, you gonna introduce us to your new friend?” the blonde kid speaks up, gesturing to Rocky, and Rocky goes ramrod straight. _Here it goes..._

“Oh! Yeah! This is, uh,” the kid, Jeremy, gestures to him, and Rocky finds himself blurting out his name.

“Rocky.” He cringes a little. _I didn't mean to say my nickname._

“Nice to meet you, Rocky. I'm Dustin, and strawberry shortcake to my right is Madeline.”

Madeline shoves his arm, causing Dustin to laugh. After composing himself, he continues.

“Our friend group is basically just a few outcasts, you know, kids who don't have/can't make friends.” He gestures around the table. “Wanna join?”

The prospect of having a whole group of friends on his side has his heart pounding in his chest. The fact that he didn't even have to do anything is even wilder; he didn't know people could be this nice. He looks to his side and sees Jeremy giving him hopeful eyes. Across from him, Madeline is smiling sweetly, and Dustin has extended a hand towards him.

A smile starts to stretch Rocky’s lips as he reaches over to shake Dustin’s hand. “Yeah. I want to join.”

***

A group of friends means adding a whole lot more activity to Rocky’s boring life. It means less getting off the bus, walking home, dropping his bag and reading, doing homework, or playing video games. It means less leaving the house to the park nearby and sitting broodily on the swing.

It means… socializing and caring about people, who… care about you too.

It means having people to invite over for the pre-Christmas party his uncle always throws.

(“I, um, I… don't celebrate Christmas.”

“Oh, you don't have to-”

“No, I'll come!” Jeremy laughs awkwardly. “I'll act like it's just a regular party!”)

It means Uncle Adam’s eyes sparkling whenever Rocky asks him to drive him somewhere or asks if his friends could come over.

It means… happiness. It makes him hopeful. It makes life…

Worth it.

Holy _shit._

(Do you know that one meme? That one meme that says: “____ will now die for you” after you befriend an NPC?

Yeah, that's Rocky at this point.)

It's February in eighth grade, and Rocky doesn't think he's ever been happier.

He wouldn't trade this for the world.

***

Almost naturally, he and Jeremy become closer.

The two of them are video game geeks, and they're both usually quiet, whereas Dustin and Madeline never shut up. Also, where Jeremy mumbles and gets embarrassed easily, Rocky finds himself become blunter and less awkward when speaking.

This group is really unlocking a confidence inside himself that he was convinced didn't exist.

Amazing, really.

The two of them do a whole lot together such as sleepovers, video game campaigns, hanging out, ranting, etcetera.

Jeremy tends to be Rocky’s crutch after each time his dad comes over. Rocky had been comfortable enough to tell him about his family situation.

Rocky is Jeremy's crutch when Jeremy's mom leaves without a trace in the August before freshman year.

They're there for each other no matter what by this point.

Freshman year goes incredibly smooth for Rocky. Well, actually, it goes… rocky (hah), with bullies and such, but it could've been much worse.

He discovers more about himself, finally accepting the parts of himself that he once despised, such as his sexuality, his height, his personality.

The dark depression that chained down his shoulders and feet is starting to deteriorate, and he's more than the “waste of space” and the “accident” that his parents view him as.

Rocky can finally look into the mirror and see something… more.

Something that makes his excited for the future.

Something that makes him _want_ to live.

… It's amazing how quickly August before sophomore year changes that.

***

“Bitches!” Dustin calls, kicking open Madeline’s basement door. Jeremy and Rocky are in a very intense game of chess, and Madeline is making dorky commentary. Jeremy jolts and knocks over his pieces with the loud exclamation, and Madeline sighs.

“Contestant Heere, out of rage out of losing, destroys the board! His girlfriend is very disappointed and thinks the anger management classes did nothing to help him,” she says, and Jeremy gives her a look, before laughing a little.

“Motherfuckers, gather round, this is gonna blow your fuckin' minds,” Dustin cuts in, pushing the board off of the coffee table and slamming a shoe box on it instead. Rocky just stares at it curiously and Madeline sighs again.

“Here.” Suddenly, a bobby pin is being held out to him. Rocky slowly takes it. “Pinback your emo bangs. How can you even see anything?”

Rocky does just that, staying quiet.

“Are we done?” Dustin asks, looking around. When he's satisfied with the silence, he grins like the Cheshire cat and pulls off the shoebox's lid. Inside, there are… mint tin cans? He pulls out one and opens it, showing everyone the contents. There are… mints. Surprising.

Rocky starts clapping, slowly followed by Jeremy and Madeline. “Mints! My mind… it's… it's fuckin’ _blown!”_

“Shut the hell up, you MySpace user. Lemme explain.” Dustin carefully puts the shoebox on the ground, taking out one of the mints and putting it on the table instead. Looking closer, Rocky decides it looks a little more like a pill with its shape.

“Are you… dealing _drugs?”_ Jeremy asks, his voice quiet, and Dustin hums, shrugging his shoulders.

“Sorta. It's better than drugs, Jeremy.”

“Explain already!” Madeline calls.

“This, my friends, is called a Squip. This tin is full of capsules that you take once a week with Mountain Dew, don't ask why.” Dustin puts down the tin and takes a few steps back, talking with his hands now. “The pill gets into your system, causing you to hallucinate, but not by a lot. It creates a… person, of your choice, to guide you to be a better person. It's not the high of weed, nor is it the alertness of cocaine. This drug literally does nothing else to you than make a person appear in your sights and help you out.”

“The entire idea of that sounds like bullshit. Are you sure that some dealer didn't sell you that ‘cause you're a naive rich white boy?” Madeline asks, and Dustin makes a growling noise in the back of his throat.

“I, being smart as hell, have decided to test this out for you nerds before showing you guys them.” Dustin grins, striking a pose. “Haven't you noticed anything different?”

No one says anything and Dustin groans. “Just… check my Instagram.”

Rocky is the first to see it, eyes blowing wide at the most recent post. It's of him and _Jake Dillinger_ hanging out. The caption is something about “best bros”, but Rocky is too hung up on the picture. He's talking before he realizes it.

“Jake is going to hunt you down when he sees this Photoshop shit,” he says, stumbling over his words a bit. _Goddamn hot dudes and nice smiles,_ Rocky thinks, looking over Jake in the picture again. “How'd you get a photo of him like this to begin with? This isn't on his Instagram.”

“Photoshop? I think not. If you don't believe me, I'll call him right now,” Dustin threatens, and Rocky, grinning smugly, holds out his hand. Dustin pulls out his phone, dialing a contact, and gives it to Rocky, who puts the phone against his ear.

 _It's probably gonna be his mom or-_ “Hello?”

_HOLY SHIT THAT'S NOT HIS MOM._

Rocky's face goes bright red and he squeaks out a reply. “H-Hi.”

“Dustin? This is Jake, dude, you sure you meant to call me?”

“Hi. This is Rocky,” Rocky replied, unable to shut himself up. Jake laughs, and Rocky’s sure he's going to explode. Dustin’s the one with a smug smile now.

“Heya, Rocky. You're Dustin’s friend?”

“Yes.” Rocky's lisp decides to punch him in the face. “Gotta go, bye!”

Rocky hangs up the phone and lightly puts it down on the table, just staring at it wide-eyed.

“Well?” Jeremy asks, and Rocky looks up at Dustin.

“That was… that-”

“Jake Dillinger, right?” Rocky nods, still feeling starstruck. “I'm not a fucking liar. This shit really works.”

Dustin walks up to the table again, and he takes six tin cans out of the box, putting them on the table. “Take two. That should last you about a year.”

“Free?” Jeremy says, slowly reaches for his own tins. Madeline snatched hers, and Rocky is just looking at his. He has a bad feeling about all of this.

“Hell yeah. Got a whole case of these bitches, and you guys are my friends. I want all of us to be cool together,” Dustin says, genuinely affectionate. Rocky worried his lip before giving in and taking his canisters.

“One last thing.”

Everyone looked up at Dustin, who had a serious look on his face.

“These are more addictive than possibly any other drug in the universe, is what the dealer told me. The only way to break free is Mountain Dew Red. If at any point you want out, here.”

Dustin went upstairs and came back down with three bottles of Red.

“Drink one. Don't waste your opportunity, though. I'm not gonna help you start up your pathway to being cool if you stop. So be warned.”

That rock of worry on Rocky’s chest only grew heavier and heavier.

***

A few days before school starts up again, Rocky pops his first pill, downing it with Mountain Dew.

He lays down on his bed, expecting the hallucination to either a, take a while to happen, or b, never happen because these really are mints.

Within seconds, there's his Squip, staring at him.

Rocky jolts up in a straight sitting position and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Are you… are you Jim Henson?”

“Yes,” it (he? They?) answered. “I can switch to Kermit, or, if you wish, Evil Kermit.”

“... Jim Henson is fine.”

The Squip nods, and walks up to the foot of his bed, folding their arms.

“You wish to be cool?”

Rocky gulps before nodding.

“Okay. I can work with this.” They shut up for a second, and their eyes go blank white. Rocky feels like his brain is being dug around in, and he squirms. “First task: message Jake Dillinger.”

“I- uh- huh?”

“You have a crush on him, correct?” Rocky goes red and looks away. “Correct. He is at the top of the food chain at your school, and I do believe he has taken a liking to you after that phone call. Befriending him will do wonders for you.”

Rocky opens his mouth and closes it a few times, looking like a frog, before finally getting out words. “What the hell would I even say?”

“‘Hey, Jake! This is Dustin’s friend, Rocky’. No period, periods in texts are unnerving.”

Rocky opens up his Instagram, looking at his own account to make sure that if Jake was to look at his account, he wouldn't be weirded out by him. After only seeing the two posts he has (a selfie, and a picture with Dustin, Madeline, and Jeremy), he thinks he's in the clear. His Squip talks as he builds up to confidence to quite literally slide into Jake's DMs.

“Your full name is Richard, correct? Why the nickname Rocky?”

Rocky types as he replies. “It's from my uncle. I liked it so… I kept it.”

They hum in reply.

Rocky sees his Instagram name right after he sends the message and debated on whether or not he should punch himself in the face.

**rockyboy: hey, jake! this is Dustin’s friend, Rocky**

**jake.dillinger: Rocky! Hey!!**

Rocky’s phone buzzes in his hand shortly after sending the message, and his eyes blow wide. _That was quick._

“He is enthusiastic. That's a good sign.”

**jake.dillinger: Hey, I saw your picture, and I know you! You sit next to me in bio and make really funny comments under your breath!**

“Double texting, voluntarily. And a compliment. Plus, he knows you. _Very_ good signs.”

Rocky’s face is red yet again as he replies.

**rockyboy: oh god, you hear them? Im surprised the teacher can't hear me**

**jake.dillinger: “Rocky, if you call me a deranged dick sucker under your breath one more time, I'm calling home.”**  
**jake.dillinger: You're really funny, dude!**

**rockyboy: *bows* i try**

“Why the _fuck_ did I just type ‘asterisk bows asterisk’?”

“Beats me, Richard.”

 **jake.dillinger: And you succeed.**  
**jake.dillinger: Speaking of funny, there's a comedy showing today, and my date just canceled on me, but I still want to go.**  
**jake.dillinger: Come with me?**

“While I knew you'd receive a favorable outcome, I did not expect this.”

Rocky makes a really weird squeaky noise, feeling as if steam is coming off of him by that point.

**rockyboy: yeah, of course!!!**

“Tone down the enthusiasm.”

 **jake.dillinger: Awesome!!!!**  
**jake.dillinger: Meet me at the theater at four!**

**rockyboy: it's a date!**

“... Oh no.”

“This will work. Do not correct yourself; keep it as ‘it's a date’.”

Jake doesn't reply after that, and Rocky turns off his phone, asking his uncle for a ride in two hours, and he agrees. Rocky spends the rest of his time worrying and getting ready.

Thankfully, it wasn't a prank, and Rocky and Jake have an awesome time at the movies. They talk all throughout the previews, and talk afterward, making more plans. Jake even _walks him home_ because “I live this way, anyway”.

Jake hugs him outside his house before walking away and Rocky is actually going to die.

“Did that really just happen?”

“Yes.” His Squip pops into his vision again, having been absent for the whole… day? “That, and more, can happen if you keep me by your side.”

Rocky’s mistrust of the drug lifts up then, and he finds himself grinning and nodding.

“I'm ready for that, then.”

***

So.

Rocky gets invited to Jake's Halloween party, and so does Dustin, and they go together.

Well, Dustin’s going as Batman, and Rocky goes as Jason with… a loaf of bread machete.

(Goddamnit.)

Jake greets the both of them at the door and lets them in, laughing a little. He's dressed as Prince Charming and _wow, I'm so bi._

“Nice loaf of bread, Rocky,” Jake giggles, and Rocky blushes underneath his mask. He decides to play along.

“Hey, it _is_ scary.” God damn lisp. “It's moldy.”

“Oh, God, no!” Jake playfully shoves his shoulder, giving him another smile before walking into the kitchen. Dustin grabs Rocky’s shoulder a little harder than usual.

“What was that?” He asks, tightening the grip a bit.

“Me and Jake are… close-ish now,” Rocky answers, pulling away from Dustin a bit and looking at him. Dustin gives him a closed lip smile and a nod before entering the kitchen as well, leaving a confused and slightly threatened Rocky behind him.

“He's jealous. He'll get over himself, however,” his Squip informs him, and Rocky slowly nods before forcing himself to be social.

About three hours later, Rocky uses the bathroom. As he's washing his hands, someone picks open the lock and slams the door open, and Rocky turns to see Dustin standing there, face red with rage.

“Bro, you could've just-”

Dustin shoves him. _Hard._

Rocky stumble backward and falls folded in two in the bathtub.

“You fucker. You absolute piece of shit, I help you, and _this_ is what you do?!”

Rocky stands up, fear thrumming inside of him. “Look, dude, I know how angry you can get, maybe it wasn't me-”

Dustin jabs a finger into his chest, squinting his eyes. “Oh, yes, it was you. You think you're cute, huh? Jake was _my_ key to popularity, find your own!”

“I- you- what?” Rocky shoves him away (His Squip made him start working out. It was paying off.). “That's not the reason I befriended him!”

“What, do you have a friends with benefits thing going on with him, Gaylord?” Dustin continues, ignoring him. “Is that why he's so affectionate of his poor little Rocky?”

Dustin grabs the collar of Rocky’s shirt and brings him forward before hitting him against the wall hard enough to knock down a painting, glass shattering. Head fuzzy, Rocky blinks a few times before falling over, and Dustin continues to yell at him.

Rocky wakes up hours later at the hospital, Jake and his uncle by his side.

“He hit your head really good,” his Squip informs him, and Rocky’s heart drops.

_Make a friend, lose a friend. A toxic cycle._

***

Rocky’s going insane.

Here's the thing:

The Squip is not a positive drug, oh no, it's the personification of Rocky’s insecurities, depression, and then some.

It's horrible.

It's going to get him into so much shit, he knows this. He knows this, yet he keeps on, the bottle of Red untouched.

Maybe he's a glutton for punishment?

He only has one friend from his original group left. Let's see how he can lose this one.

***

“Give it up, Jeremy! I've got better friends now! If only you had kept up with your Squip, then maybe we could've been friends.”

As Rocky’s looking down at the trembling Jeremy, Rocky repeats a mantra to himself.

_It's for his own good, you're too toxic for him._

“Don’t talk to me, don't look at me, don't even think of me. Fucking loser.”

_You'll corrupt him. Leave, leave, leave._

“Goodbye. Forever.”

_Everything about me makes me want to die. Everything about me makes me want to die._

And Rocky walks away.

And Rocky dies, turning into Rich.

***

There's a house fire.

Well, actually, turns out that his dad is an arsonist, with his mom as an accomplice.

Rich is asleep when it happens until he isn't. The fire starts in his room first, and the smoke wakes him up. He scrambles to the door, and a chair blocking it keeps him inside.

A whole half of his body and part of his face is burnt before his uncle reaches him, dragging him out the room and bringing him outside, running after to try to find the culprit.

Rich ends up, obviously, in the hospital, and while he's recovering, the only thing he can think of is how glad he is that he drank the Red that afternoon before the fire.

Jake and his uncle are his most frequent visitors, and it's his uncle who informs him of his parents getting jailed for arson and attempted murder. He doesn't tell him the why the second charge is there.

(Rich turns on his television.

“Today, in court, a father pledges guilty for an attempted murder of his son with the statement, ‘I wanted that little-’” _BEEP_ “‘-to burn in-’” _BEEP_ “Here's the full story.”

Rich threw up his lunch in the trash bin beside him.)

He eventually does get out of the hospital, and by that time, it's summer. He cuts his hair, bleached it, dying a section red, and gives up wearing his retainer, so a space forms between his two front teeth again. He changes his style from hoodies to tank tops and becomes louder and more confident. Jake remarks on the change, saying it's good to see him gain confidence, but Rich doesn't tell him the real reason.

He doesn't want Jeremy to be able to recognize him. It'd be better if he stayed out of his life.

Rich applies for a private school, and, after getting it, beings getting therapy, which was a suggestion from his uncle.

It actually helps a whole lot, and finally, his dark world seems to be a lot brighter again, and he feels like he can finally breathe.

It's… actually not amazing.

It's normal.

He's just glad he was able to crawl out of hell.

***

Therapy, in this school, apparently translates to rehab.

Rehab then translates into rehab for drug use, and Rich goes from the top of the high school food chain to the very bottom.

He's back to eating lunch in the corner of the cafeteria alone.

It's November, and he's biting into his sandwich, texting Jake with one hand, when someone drops down in the seat across from him, dropping their bag onto the table.

Rich looks up and sees a tan guy with thick glasses sitting there, and he has a DS flipped open, playing it. The guy doesn't say anything, so Rich opts to say nothing either.

It happened again the next day, but the guy speaks then.

“Being gay is wild, man,” is all the guy says, and Rich finds himself nodding.

“Try being bi. Or in love with your best friend.”

The guy laughs, then, peering at Rich over the game boy. “That sucks, dude. Good thing I've never had a best friend to fall in love with.”

“Be mine.”

A week later, and they trade names.

“I can't believe I don't even know my bestie’s name.”

“Michael. Michael Mell. Don't wear it out.”

“Rich. Just Rich. Same.”

Rich doesn't know why the world is giving himself this chance to redeem himself, but he'll take what he can get at this point.

He'll finally be grateful for what he has.

***

Rich bumps into Jeremy Heere on the boardwalk before senior year.

He doesn't realize until he's in the car on the way home later.

Jeremy became a bit less lanky, as in actually gaining muscles, and thankfully has at least one friend. His hair became a bit longer, and his skin cleared up a bit.

He actually looked genuinely happy, and Rich is so, so glad.

Realizing that he was going to be going to school with him again scares Rich a lot, and he doesn't know if he'll end up breaking or not.

By the looks of it, Jeremy and Michael will begin dating, which means Jeremy and Rich will be close by again, which means Rich’s Rocky side will begin to show a lot.

On that ride home, right before nodding off, he makes a vow to himself.

_I won't tell Jeremy that I'm Rocky._

***

 _“What?!”_ Jeremy screeched, hopping onto his feet and staring at Rich. Rich shrunk back a little, staring at his feet. “You know what happened to him?!”

Rich nods and Jeremy yells again. “Tell me! Is he okay?!”

_Here goes nothing._

“... I _am_ your friend Rocky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the thing with me is that taking a break would actually make it worse? if that makes sense??  
> writing is a really big outlet for me, and i honestly love seeing you guys reading and enjoying this silly content, it just makes my day  
> ill get better soon  
> just  
> thank you all for being here for me, and i love you all


	7. Jeremiah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends, old stories, different lives.

Jeremy stared at Rich slack-jawed. He had just… come out and said _that._

Sitting back down and gripping the chains tightly, Jeremy swallows around the lump in his throat and looks down at his feet, vision blurring a little.

“Look, Rich, I don't care what kind of popular or ‘powerful’ you are, but _fuck_ you for lying about something like that,” Jeremy bites out, twisting the chains around his hands. The cold metal biting into his skin grounded him a bit. “Can you just tell me what you actually know so I can get to the part where I beg you not to spread rumors about me?”

Rich stays quiet, and Jeremy chances a look over at him. Rich is staring at the ground, worrying his lip. Jeremy, trying to keep his face blank, looks away again.

“Just… just spit it out… please,” Jeremy chokes out, and before he knows it, tears are falling from his eyes. He yanks a hand from the chains and wipes his eyes, cursing under his breath.

“I'm not lying, Jeremy, I swear on my _life_ I'm not,” Rich blurts out, grabbing the chain on Jeremy's swing. Jeremy looked at Rich out of the corner of his eyes, and Rich actually looks desperate. The genuine need for Jeremy to believe him on his face makes Jeremy straighten up and look at him, temporarily forgetting about the tears. “I wouldn't lie to you about something like this- I wouldn't lie to you. Not again, never again.”

“If… if you're really Rocky, why are you even telling me? You left me.”

Rich draws in a shaky breath and Jeremy sniffles a little. “I wasn't going to. I told myself not to, but it was eating me up inside, seeing you, seeing you again after that year apart, after being a huge asshole to you.” Rich turns even more towards him, and Jeremy finds himself believing the words flowing like water from his mouth. “I-I… the pill was- it was- you-”

Rich breaks down, stopping himself from trying to talk and standing up from the swing set. He takes a few steps forward, and Jeremy can see his shoulders rising with every breath, and Jeremy assumes he's calming himself down. Jeremy himself stands up and walks towards him.

“Hey-”

“I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry for… _everything._ I ditched you right after Madeline and Dustin did all that shit, I thought I was doing what was best for you,” Rich tells him, whipping around to face him, and Jeremy recoiled in shock from the look on his face. Rich looked so torn up, so desperate, just… _hurting._ He scrubbed at his eyes, voice dropping down to a mumble. “It _was_ what was best for you. I-I turned into an asshole, and I didn't want to drag… drag you around in the dirt.”

“Rich, I-”

Rich drops his hands, looking up at Jeremy, and the flash of cold through Jeremy's body is from more than just the cold weather. Now, looking at him closer, Jeremy can see _Rocky._

“I, um… a few days after screaming, I drank the Red, and that night, I got caught up in a fire.” Rich holds out his arm with the scars. “I cut my hair after, stopped wearing my retainer, and transferred schools. I… knew I wouldn't be able to bare seeing you every day.”

Jeremy doesn't say anything, and Rich continues.

“But then… I saw you at the boardwalk, and you and my boy Michael just… hit it off, and I knew that it'd only be a matter of time before you found out and it was just… it was just eating at me, I _needed_ to tell you before it killed me, I-” Rich looks up at Jeremy again, and meets his eyes, his expression twisting and eyes becoming watery again “-I missed my best friend. I'm… I'm sorry.”

Jeremy sniffs hard before taking a step forward and wrapping Rich (Rocky?) up in a hug. Rich reacts immediately, hugging back hard.

(Jeremy didn't want to ruin the moment by telling Rich that he actually couldn't breathe.)

Rich sobs loudly into his shoulder, and a small part of Jeremy's mind gets worried that eyes are on them, but he bats that away, focusing on Rich.

He blinks away the moisture in his eyes, feeling a light feeling uncoiling in his heart, the heavy darkness that he didn't even know was there slowly breaking apart. Rich’s hands clench in the back of Jeremy's sweater, and Jeremy lets out a puff of breath when Rich’s hold loosens up a bit.

The hug lasts a while after that until they're both feeling the cold in their bones, at that point separating. Jeremy takes a step back and stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground.

“I'm still pissed off at you, Rich,” Jeremy says, though his voice, his face, nor his body language displays it. “You just up and left; I thought you _died.”_

“I swear on my life that I'll do everything in power to make it up to you, dude. I love you, man, you were one of the only people who kept me sane.”

Jeremy smiles, blinking back tears again. He looks up at Rich, and Rich finally looks relieved. He also looks like he needs to catch up on a few days worth of sleep.

“I love you too, Rocky.”

***

Michael ends up giving Rich a ride home as well. He accepted right away when he saw the two of them walk out together with red eyes, Rich clinging onto Jeremy's arm.

When they reach Rich’s uncle's house, Jeremy gets out with him and walks him up to the door. The original plan that Jeremy had was that the two of them were going to sit down and talk more, but when he saw just how exhausted Rich was, he wanted him to get rest right away. Even though he didn't want it to, the explanations and answers could wait.

“I love you, man, no homo,” Rich says when they get to the door, hugging him. Jeremy hugs back, but when he pulls away, he rolls his eyes. Rich grins wide, and then he yawns.

“Can we like-” Rich stops himself, seeming to think about what to say before he shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“What?”

“I was gonna ask if we could start over, but I don't wanna. We have too much of a history, you know?”

Jeremy nods at that, and Rich turns, about to enter, before he turns around and his eyes seem to have stars in them.

“Aw, dude, Uncle Adam is gonna be so stoked to see you again!”

“‘Stoked’?”

“I hang out with Jake a lot, sue me.”

“Yeah… I know,” Jeremy replies, and he realizes how it could be a jab at him after it's said. But, in his opinion, he believes he deserves to still be mad at him, that there still should be the horribly tense atmosphere surrounding them because it's only day one of the trip that will be recovery.

Say… you meet someone and hit it off. You become friends and talk more, and more, and _more._ You become closer and begin to open up to them until you both become near open books around each other, and you aren't afraid of what they'll say because you know them. They love you, through and through.

That's a process. So is forgiveness, and rebuilding a dam that's been destroyed.

That doesn't aid Jeremy's heart against the sting he feels when Rich’s face goes serious and he locks eyes with him. “I'll fix this, and explain everything, Jeremy, I _swear_ to you. I'm sorry, still.”

Rich offers him one last sad smile before he slides inside the house and closes the door behind him. Jeremy controls his breathing to calm himself down before he turns on his heel and gets back into Michael's car.

When he gets in the passenger seat, Michael prompts him to speak with a worried look and turns on his car, beginning to drive away.

“Do you… do you want to go back to my house?” Michael tentatively asks, and a weight Jeremy didn't know existed lifts off his chest. Maybe he was worried that Michael would think he was weird or something, especially after his little freak out in his kitchen?

Nevermind that. _Breathe, Jeremy._ “Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” Michael reaches over and squeezes the hand that Jeremy rests on his thigh before putting both hands back on the wheel. “I don't want to force you into anything, but you did kinda just have a serious talk with my best friend, and we're kinda a… a _thing,_ now, so… if you want to, I'd like you to tell me what's up.”

Jeremy doesn't say anything in response, mostly because he's thinking of what to say. Michael takes it the wrong way, though.

“Oh, hah, how rude of me to a-assume things, you know? You don't- you don't have to tell me anything!”

“Michael, it's okay, I… I want to,” Jeremy reassured, peeking at Michael out of the corner of his eyes. Michael is gripping onto the wheel with white knuckles, which release a little bit. “Um… we're a thing?”

“I mean… I… kissed you.”

“... You did.”

“Jeremiah Heere, please be my boyfriend,” Michael blurts out, and Jeremy barks out a laugh, nodding.

“It'd be my pleasure, Michael Mell.”

“Radical.” There are a few seconds of silence before Michael clears his throat, switching topics. “Um… when are- when are you gonna tell me?”

“Is today okay…?”

“Yeah! Yeah, that's, um, totally cool.”

Jeremy nods, even though he knows Michael isn't looking, and he looks back down to his hands in his lap, controlling his breathing to hopefully control his heartbeat.

_Four in, four hold, four out. He will still like you after this. Four in, four hold, four out. It's your backstory, and he wouldn't judge you for your history if he truly likes you._

_Four in, four hold_ _, four out. Everything will be okay._

Later, situated on a beanbag chair in front of a tv playing conspiracy theory videos, Jeremy turns to Michael and launches into his story.

***

Sophomore year was truly a trip for Jeremy, and it all started at the end of August.

He placed the tin can open on his desk and stood in front of it, tapping his foot and staring at the pills, a can of Mountain Dew open next to it. Biting at the skin on the inside of his lip, Jeremy's foot taps match the pace of his heart as he raises a shaky hand to grab a pill. He places it on his tongue and gulps down Mountain Dew before he can go back, a bit intrigued by the minty flavor.

_Maybe these really are mints?_

Within the span of seconds, Keanu Reeves appears in front of him surrounded by a blueish hue. Jeremy stares at them slack-jawed, and the Squip groans, running a hand through their hair.

“Scanning your brain, I believe an anime schoolgirl would be a better form,” they say, and Jeremy goes crimson, waving his hands, saying their current form is fine. They watch his little freakout and sighs heavily, folding their arms. “This… is going to be… a challenge.”

Jeremy's mood deflates a little at the kind-of insult and he brushed it off, walking backward until his knees hit the bed and he sits down. “You'll… you'll make me cool?”

“I will _attempt.”_

“Well… attempt away.”

“Get a ride to the nearest clothing store, and bring a lot of money with you.” The Squip flings open the doors of his closet and just looks into it. “Your entire wardrobe sucks, to be blunt.”

“Geez,” Jeremy mutters under his breath, pulling out his phone to tell his dad he was heading out to Kohls. When he hangs up, he gets up, pulls on a sweater, and gets to walking.

He hunches over a little and his fingers pick at the thread inside his pockets. A shock zips its way up his spine and he jolts up.

“What the hell?!” he near shouts, the pain disappearing right after, like a band-aid, yet he still remembers it. His Squip sighs.

“I am a narcotic, Jeremy. Every drug has its effects, and these effects include hallucinations and electric feeling shocks. You were prepared for this.”

Jeremy just looks at them before looking straight back ahead, making sure to walk with a straight back but feeling out of place all the while.

***

Going into October, Jeremy is worn out. He stands in front of his mirror only in plain loose black boxers as his Squip pokes and prods at him verbally.

“You're incredibly skinny, I am not sure how you manage to keep up this twig like physical appearance,” it says, and he gulps saliva, keeping his eyes on the reflection. The Squip would zap him otherwise.

“Acne. I can understand that teenagers have acne, but your face resembles that of someone who drinks grease for meals.”

“Please… stop…” Jeremy chokes out, gritting his teeth and trying to hold back tears. He wants, _needs,_ to look away, but he can't handle getting shocked again.

“Are you- You're going to cry, aren't you? Unbelievable,” the Squip said, voice riddled with disappointment. Jeremy's arms tremble by his sides and he tries and fails to control his breathing.

“Say it.”

“Wh-What?”

“You know what, Jeremiah.”

“Everything about- everything about me makes me wanna die,” he whispers, voice cracking on “die”. The trembling works its way into all of his bones, head pounding and lungs tight, and he finally breaks the staring contest with the mirror when the panic hits him full force and he drops down, just trying to breathe.

Just trying to force in some air.

***

By January, Jeremy has lost most of his hope. He's in love with a girl who probably doesn't love him back, his best friend has been hanging out with Jake Dillinger more and more, Christine still doesn't notice him, and he totally bombed the winter play.

Yes, he sits with cooler kids.

Yes, he's mastered the cool sorta smirk that makes girls swoon, and yes, he has a “hot babe” as a girlfriend.

Yes, he is a lot more popular and important than he was a few months ago, but what the fuck does it matter?

His mom is still gone.

There's still a rift between him and his dad.

He still fucking hates himself, but he hates himself more than ever.

He's a glutton for punishment, a drug addict, a teenager disaster.

A washed-up nobody at age sixteen.

He can't take it anymore.

***

Home alone, Jeremy piled up logs in his fire pit out back and drenched the wood with lighter fluid. Lighting a match, he tosses it in and watches with dead eyes as the fire flares up.

He fishes the mint tin out of his pocket and looks at it, shaking it a little before letting out a breath and tossing it into the fire. Beside him, his Squip freaks out, shouting about prices, or consequences, or something about how stupid Jeremy is. Their speech is just static to Jeremy's ears.

The soda bubbles a little when Jeremy twists off the cost. He flicks the cap into the fire and looks at his Squip, who shocks him violently. Jeremy pushes through it and downs the very old soda. He watches as the Squip flickers out of existence, and wipes a tear going down his face with his sleeve. He then throws the empty bottle into the fire as well.

He watches the plastic melt, feels the heat on his face, smells the toxic fumes and smoke from the fire, and tastes the Mountain Dew Red on his tongue.

What does he hear?

He hears the crunching of gravel underneath the tires of a car. He hears the crackling of static and the buzzing of his phone. He hears his dad's voice and his name being called, but most of all, he hears the pulsing of his heart through the thick layers of static and blank nothingness.

***

Healing up and quitting using his Squip in his friend group is apparently social suicide. In the span of one week, his girlfriend cheats on him with his best friend, and his very best friend dumps him like trash because he isn't cool anymore.

Oh, and said friend _vanishes_. Cool.

Dustin and Madeline come close to the top of the food chain, and Jeremy can't go a full day without seeing them. And they rub everything they have that he doesn't in his face each and every time he is near them.

Over the summer, he sees them less, which is still a lot, considering they all live within walking distance of each other.

It's late August, and the drama club has gotten together to clean up around the stage dressings rooms to prepare for the upcoming year. Jeremy's in charge of the male dressing room, and he closes the door behind him as he works.

He doesn't know what triggers it, or what even happens, but a sharp pain rips its way through his skull and his hands shake like a leaf in the wind. The pile of costumes clatters to the ground as does he, falling with a thump and holding his head in his hands. He doesn't even know what this pain is, maybe a side effect from the drug, but he knows that it _hurts._

It doesn't register when the door is slammed open and someone's talking (shouting) at him, trying to get his attention or get him to speak.

“-hospital!” they finish, and Jeremy's hand shoots out, grabbing their jacket. They clutch his shoulders tighter at that.

“No hospital,” he mumbles, and just like that, it seems like the pain is gone. He feels incredibly sluggish, but he still manages to force himself into a sitting position and he fully sees them through the black spots in his vision.

Holy shit, it's _Christine._

His vision focuses entirely, and he sees her scanning his face intensely. He blushes under the attention, and she starts talking fast, words bleeding into one another.

“Is it stress? Are you under stress? Is high school theater too much, because I’d fully understand, you're honestly a super talented actor, Jeremy, I was so sad that you dropped out of the spring show.” She stops and gulps in air before continuing. “Hey, you don't have many friends, right? Be my friend! My friends and I are going out for dinner after this, nothing fancy, come with! It'll help you release some pent-up stress!”

Jeremy feels overwhelmed with the dump truck load of information, so he just nods shortly and Christine smiles, standing and helping him up. “Awesome! I'm Christine, if you didn't remember.”

“I'm- I'm Jeremy,” he introduces, then realizes that she had said his name ten seconds ago. She laughs and points that out as well.

The two of them finish their jobs together before heading out, and before Jeremy knows it, he's sucked into the whirlwind of a world that is the Chloe, Christine, and Brooke friend group.

It's wild, and sometimes crazy, a mixture of different personalities, but it ends up feeling like a sort of home for him.

Which is really what he needed, coming from a home that had just crumbled from drug abuse, and an actual broken home.

He needed something with structure, something that couldn't be ripped apart, and if Jeremy grew to know these girls, he knew that someone would have to rip this friendship from their cold dead hands before anything were to have a possibility of happening.

They clashed. They sometimes fought, but came back together. They teasingly made fun of each other but made sure that everyone knew that they were loved.

And that was _home._

A home that Jeremy easily became a part of.

***

Turning to face Michael after the retelling of his past is harder than what he thought it was going to be. He had just spilled out his entire heart to someone he had met in August, and then he left it out there to be stepped on. He doesn't think he'd be able to take it if Michael were to react badly.

Still, he tries to force his head to look at him. Turns out he doesn't need to when his face is cupped by soft hands and turned for him. Michael pecks his lips when they're face to face, and Michael looks worried, but not disgusted. Not at all.

“Was Rich the friend that vanished?” he quietly asks, and Jeremy nods quick, stilling again afterward. Michael's thumb running over his cheek eases his worries ever so slightly. “He told you that today, right?”

Again, a nod.

“How are you guys now?”

“Sh-shaky. It's gonna take time,” Jeremy answers then, biting down on his lip. “I'm just… it's good to know that Rocky… Rich… is okay.”

“Yeah, it must be,” Michael responds, and even through the softness of his, well, _everything_ , Jeremy's heartbeat spikes.

“What about the- what about the Squip? The drugs?” Jeremy had started his retelling from when Dustin introduced the drug to all of them, telling them how it works. “Aren't you disgusted by- by that?”

“Jer, sweetheart, my jacket doesn't smell like weed for no reason,” Michael tells him with a soft smile. “Besides, you quit it a long time ago all on your own. If anything, I'm proud of you.”

Disbelief rippled its way through Jeremy, and Michael must see because his hands work their way down to his waist to pull him closer, hugging him tightly. With gentle coaxing, Jeremy buries his face in Michael's neck, the vibrations of his chest when he speaks and the low television noise calming him.

Michael speaks to him low and sweet, petting his hair and not letting up on the hold.

So many things had happened to Jeremy that day, spanning from high to low, and he had a vaguely sick feeling in his stomach as if he had just gotten off the Vomit-Comet.

Still with the adrenaline high that would come from it if he did _actually_ go on it, though.

Focusing back on the rumbling of Michael's chest, the smell of lingering weed and cologne, the feel of fingers in his hair and soft cotton, and the taste of nothingness, he can lose himself in the moment.

But what does he hear?

He hears Michael's whispered sentiments, he hears the unbelievable theory being explained on the television. He hears the padding of footsteps upstairs and the hard thud of running feet. He hears his breathing and his thoughts racing through his mind and varying in emotion.

And he hears his heart pounding against his ribcage, reminding him that yes, he's alive, yes, he's a human who makes mistakes. That Yes, he deserves another chance, yes, he deserves the good, the bad, and the in between, and that yes, he is worth it.

No matter _what_ life throws at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sneeze


	8. Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is a strong emotion, one that can both shatter you and build you back up.

Time goes on.

A day, then a week, then a month go by, and things change a little.

For example, Jeremy and Rich hang out a lot more, usually getting coffee or at one of the other's houses. Healing their relationship was a process, but with how easily they fell into place like puzzle pieces, the process sped up.

(It also may have been the very warm and welcoming Adam Goranski. Jeremy took one step into the house and suddenly he was wrapped up in the arms of a man slightly shorter than him and swung around. As he's huffing and trying to regain his breath, he's set on his feet and he's shaken vigorously by his shoulders.

“Jeremiah Heere, I _hate_ you! Why did you disappear?! You're my favorite kid!”

“Uh,” chimed in Rich, and Adam laughed heartedly, scruffing up his hair.

“Only behind little Richy here!”)

Yeah, there were the predictable awkward silences and there was still the underlying hurt in Jeremy's words, but the wound was still closing every day, ever so slightly.

Another example is how close he and Michael become.

Michael's mom finds out about the two of them pretty quickly, actually.

Turns out that Michael _really_ likes kissing Jeremy. Jeremy's not complaining, not at all, because he loves kissing him back, but it's just that Michael does it _everywhere_ , and Jeremy gets embarrassed very easily.

Looking back on it now, Jeremy thinks that maybe it wasn't smart to test their privacy limits and make out in Michael's kitchen again. But when he's in the moment, propped up on the counter with Michael standing between his legs and kissing him like his life depends on it, Jeremy's mind isn't really on the… logical side.

He's threading his fingers in Michael's hair when he hears the clearing of a throat. The clearing of said throat startled Jeremy so much that he completely yanked Michael away from him.

“Ow! What the hell- _o mom!”_ Michael covers over when Jeremy turns him to face his mom, who's standing in the doorway with a smirk on her face and folded arms. The heat in Jeremy's face flares up rapidly until he's left facing the ground with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Really? On my good counters?” she breaks the awkward silence with, stepping closer. “If you two had to desecrate something, it couldn't at least be the couch?”

Jeremy thinks he hears a whine of something from Michael, who has his hands over his face, which pulls a laugh out of Ms. Mell. Jeremy just continues looking at the floor.

“How long has this little affair been goin’ on?” she asks, her teasing evident and Michael lowers his hands a little bit.

“A few weeks…”

“‘Weeks’? _Geez,_ you teenagers move fast these days!”

Jeremy hops off the counter at the point, his hand not so subtly reaching out the hold onto the sleeve of Michael's hoodie. Michael gives him a soft smile at that before the two of them turn back to Ms. Mell, who's watching them with kind eyes.

“Ah, I've embarrassed you enough. Get out of here, you two,” she tells them, and as they're walking past, she says something that makes Jeremy's blood run cold. “Jeremy, can I actually talk to you for a sec?”

Now, while Jeremy may have said “ah, yeah, sure”, he sends Michael wide pleading eyes and slowly walks back in, leaning against the counter again. She turns towards him after she's sure Michael left and she snorts.

“Down, buddy, I'm not going to attack you!” she reassures, and Jeremy finds himself calming down a little bit. “I just wanna know what you and my son are going to do with the baby.”

_“... Huh?”_

Ms. Mell is cackling by that point and Jeremy is severely confused on what's going on. “It's a joke! You'll come to learn I make a lot of those.”

“Oh.”

“No, but seriously, I'm really glad you showed up in his life, Jeremy,” she says, suddenly serious. “When he came home from that boardwalk at the end of summer looking so… so bright and happy, I knew something amazing had happened, and I'm glad that it's you.”

“Things were uh… they were really rough on Michael when me and my husband divorced, you know?” she continues and Jeremy's listening intently. “He was a total daddy's boy, so to see him go was just… awful. It was easier for Anthony ‘cause he and his dad never really got along, but it was hell for Michael.”

“That… that really sucks. My … my mom left me and my dad when I was about to start freshman year, so I get it,” Jeremy admits, feeling at ease. Ms. Mell, for as much teasing and joke telling as she did, had a surprisingly calming air around her.

“Oh, geez, I'm so sorry, Jeremy,” Ms. Mell says, and Jeremy waves his hand, shrugging.

“I'm over it by now. We, uh, we were never too close, to begin with.”

Ms. Mell hums, stepping forward and hugging Jeremy. Jeremy, who was not expecting this, goes ramrod straight but relaxes as she speaks.

“Well, no matter what happens at home, as long as you keep making Michael happy, you'll always have a place in the Mell household.”

“I- uh- You don't have-”

“No ifs, ands, or buts, Jeremy.” She pulls back and puts her hands on her hips. “I'll kick your ass if you try to deny my offer.”

“Swear jar, swear jar!” Anthony sings, walking into the kitchen and Ms. Mell groans.

“How are you _always_ here when I swear?!”

Jeremy himself changes as well.

It's not significant, it's not groundbreaking in which he suddenly understands himself, no, it's rather small.

Little things shift and morph into something else, and while it isn't too noticeable, it's all Jeremy can notice.

For example, his day can get better by the simplest things. Michael's hand in his? Better. Christine, Brooke, Chloe and him eating lunch together? Amazing. Rich grinning wide and talking to him excitedly? Awesome.

He doesn't dread school days anymore. Sure, the work and stress suck, but it's his last year, and he has a whole lot of people that he loves to see and talk to.

Going off of the love thing, Jeremy's pretty sure he loves Michael now.

It's not _in_ love sort of love, just normal love at the moment. The love has the potential to grow into being in love, but it's not quite there yet. Jeremy just knows that Michael means a whole lot to him, and could maybe even mean the world to him with just a little time.

“October 1st is national pumpkin spice day.”

Jeremy looks up from his phone to glance over at Michael who's pressed against his side, straining to read his book with the minimal light from the television. His eyebrows are drawn together and he looks likes he's in pain.

“What?”

“Why is national pumpkin spice day in October? You'd think it would be in November, considering pumpkins are more likely to be eaten in November than they are in October. I can understand that it's to ‘mark the beginning of fall’, but fuck that noise. You can't _carve_ pumpkin spice, you eat it. No one bites into a jack-o-lantern.” Michael pauses and sucks in a breath. “Pumpkins are all the rage to eat in November, so, by relation, national pumpkin spice day belongs with its fellow edible brethren.”

Jeremy was just staring at Michael then, slightly amazed. “What about Canadians?”

“Huh?”

“Thanksgiving for them is near the beginning of October.”

“Well, that's their problem, not mine. Also, that's just… too many iconic holidays in one month. You can't have both Thanksgiving _and_ Halloween in one month. You go from being thankful to scaring the shit out of people. Seems like a severe mood swing to me,” Michael argues again, just then turning to look at Jeremy, who's still looking at him with wide eyes. “What?”

You see, this is where Jeremy was hit with an overload of emotion. For some reason, the thought of _I love you, I love you, I love you_ was persisting in his mind, pressing against his head and begging to be told. Thankfully, his mouth to brain filter was still rather functional, so he spits out a weak tease instead.

“You're such a dork,” he tells him, voice quiet, and Michael puts down his book and grins at him, breaking the serious facade he had going on. He leans over and kisses Jeremy's cheek before leaning into his side again, focusing on the show on the tv, going quiet.

Jeremy tried to focus as well, but it felt like he was underwater, like everything was blurry and distorted besides the boy next to him. Yet, every time he looked at him, his heart ached with unsaid “I love you”s. Unsaid for now, at least.

He just can't believe that pumpkin spice is what caused him to be hit with this truck of feelings.

The other changes in him are very small, like the fact that his back is a bit straighter when he walks, his voice is a little louder when speaking, his heart is a little less guarded, and his happiness is a small bit higher.

His friend group becomes a bit wider, making room for Jenna and Jake after Rich introduces him to them. He's not _super_ close to them, but they're still there.

Adding all these changes together, Jeremy believes he's having a super successful senior year so far.

And he wouldn't change anything about that.

***

As anyone would want to do with the person they love, Jeremy wants to learn more about Michael.

Jeremy's sitting in between Michael's legs with his back to Michael's chest when he speaks up. Michael's arms are around his waist and they're just enjoying each other's presence in Jeremy's living room while his father's out. Music drifts sweetly out of the television speakers, and Jeremy's voice seems to pull Michael out of his music trance.

“Hey, Michael?” Jeremy calls softly, not wanting to break the moment. Michael hums, acknowledging him, tightening his hold and nuzzling his nose into Jeremy's shoulder, making Jeremy smile. “I just realized that you know my tragic backstory but I don't know yours.”

“Maybe you haven't unlocked it yet, babe,” Michael says, a sleepy edge to his voice. Jeremy squirms a little and whines. “I'm joking. I'll tell you all about little sophomore Michael, but I gotta warn you that it's not pretty.”

“I was on a drug. I'm sure I could handle it.”

“... Okay.”

With that, Michael's story is told with a tight hold on Jeremy and his chin on Jeremy's shoulder.

***

Michael was a floater sort of kid. He didn't belong to a certain clique, nor did he not belong to a clique. If he were to describe himself, he'd say he hung with the outcasts, but none of them were particularly close. They just stuck together to avoid being bullied as much as possible.

He didn't talk much, opting to listen to music or keep his mouth shut. He only spoke when necessary and didn't go out of his way to make friends. The group was all he really needed, and it's not like high school friends were going to stick with him up until college. He was finally going to be cool when he got to college.

Life was fine to him, nothing too bad, yet nothing too special. He was just a typical New Jersey teenager.

(Also gay and Filipino, being bilingual, but that's not really relevant here.)

Freshman year was different, though.

The outcast group moved up and stuck together in high school, with them going Michael. Michael, the kid who fidgeted in his uniform and was a daydreamer.

Daydreams are made of flimsy material though, material that's easily cut through by the scissors of your parents arguing, screaming at each other. They cut through the layers of your heart as you put your headphones over your brother's ears, playing whatever music he'd like, just so that he didn't have to bear witness to the horrid things said. They cut through the seams of your relaxed happiness when you wake up early each morning before school to clean up the shards of porcelain or glass inevitably smashed the night previous.

The daydreams are completely shattered when Michael, due to loud bangs and shuffling feet, walks upstairs in the middle of the night to see his dad lugging a suitcase towards the front door.

“... Dad?” he calls, and his dad freezes in his spot, slowly looking to Michael with a forced smile.

“Hey, buddy,” his dad says, tone calm and light, but Michael isn't having any of that. He rubs one of his eyes as he straightens up, vision blurry but slowly adjusting in the dark.

“Where are you going?”

“Ah, well… there's no use in hiding, is there?” His dad straightens up, turning towards him fully. “Your mother and I are getting a divorce, and… I'm moving out.”

 _“... What?”_ Michael near shouted. He swallowed down his voice, stepping closer. He's sure his hands are shaking. “What about- what about me and An-Anthony? Moving _where?”_

His dad sighs. “Come on, Mikey, don't make this difficult, alright? It's grown-up business.”

“You're trying to ditch us in the middle of the night! I deserve to know!”

“I don't like that tone,” his dad says in his warning voice, but Michael can't find it in himself to calm down. He steps even closer, getting in his dad's face.

“Do you know how many times I've cut my hands on glass picking it up in the morning? Do you know how many times Anthony came to my room _crying?_ And you're just gonna leave-”

Pain blooms from Michael's cheek, spreading across to the other side of his face. The slap is so powerful that his head turns with it and he's left speechless, staring at the wall to his side while the pounding of his heart amplifies.

“Don't you get it, Michael? I don't care anymore!” his dad shouts, and all Michael can hear is static. He hopes that neither his brother or mom woke up and had to bear witness to this. “I don't give a _shit_ what happens to you, or your mom, or your brother. I'm over it! This, _all_ of this, was a _mistake!”_

Michael, ever the idiot, tried to speak again. “Are you… You're disappearing?”

Michael's shoulder was shoved harshly, yet he still didn't look up.

“Not fully. I'll be sure to visit my kids often.”

With those words, he's gone. The slam of the door seems to shake the entire house, shaking Michael to the core, shaking the family photos on the walls, shaking the foundation that he had laid down just to keep himself some level of sane.

Amazingly enough, no one woke up. Michael was left more alone than ever, just looking at the chipped wood of their front door and out the window into the empty night.

***

After that incident, Michael goes from the floater kid to the loner, the freak who isolated himself, the one who doesn't speak, the one who deserves all the pity you can give him.

He sits by himself with headphones constantly on, breaks uniform often to wear hooded sweatshirts. The teachers and staff usually turned a blind eye to it, though, because rumors of Michael Mell’s dysfunctional family spread like the plague.

“Woah, there's that depressed kid, better leave him alone,” they would say, and Michael wouldn't hear because he'd have some song blasting into his ears.

Michael wanted to figure out just what it was that he did wrong, but he couldn't seem to find it.

His dad was completely okay with him being gay, even supported him. His dad always reassured him that he'd find friends and sympathize with him for being a loner. There was seemingly nothing that Michael could've done to invoke his anger.

_Maybe it was just existing?_

Michael turned to weed to help him forget, if only temporarily. He'd wait until he was home alone before he went into the bathroom in the basement, cracked open the window, and got high. Then he'd sit and loll his head against the cold of the bathroom wall and just let everything soak in.

Even at home, he dragged his feet across the ground and was a lot quieter.

He knew he was truly beginning to concern his family when Anthony began to reach out to him.

It started with a ball bouncing down the stairs, a paper taped to it. Michael looked away from the tv and towards it, eventually getting up to get it. He pulled off the paper, and on it said, “stop being a nerd”.

(Not all that sentimental, but that's Anthony for you.)

Despite himself, the note put a smile on his face, and Michael put it onto his desk, taking his place in front of the tv again.

The next time, Michael gets a note on his fork at dinner. He walks up from the basement and sits down in his seat, trying to avoid eye contact so no one sees his red face and eyes from crying. He sees the paper taped to his fork and he pulls it off, unfolding the paper.

“You owe me a slushy for being a nerd” is what it says this time, and Michael barks out a laugh. He looks up and across the table to Anthony, who's glare softens into a concerned glance when he sees the state of Michael's face, but Michael chokes out words anyway.

“Blue raspberry or cherry?”

“... Coke, you loser.”

Michael gets another note on the bathroom door in the basement. He pulls it off, and the words make his heart beat louder.

“Mom says you're depressed. Is that ultra sad?” is what it says this time, “depressed” crossed out and rewritten in his mom's handwriting. Michael folds the note and puts it on his desk, getting in bed and under the covers.

An hour or two later, his door is opened and feet softly pad downstairs. He sits up and squints in the dark for his glasses, and when he gets them, he puts them on to see Anthony walking towards him with his headphones and his phone.

Anthony puts the headphones over Michael's ears and forced Michael to unlock his phone. After he does that, about ten seconds later, the Super Mario Bros soundtrack began to play. He looked over at Anthony with curiosity, and through the upbeat music, Michael hears words mumbled.

“You always did this for me when I was sad, so I should do this for you when you're ultra sad.”

Michael had never hugged anyone harder.

***

“In the beginning of junior year, I tried to go back to the outcasts group, but they kicked me out completely. That kinda sucked, but, um, I befriended Rich, and that friendship has been better than anything I got from that group,” Michael finished, and Jeremy hums softly, covering one of Michael's hands with his own and lifting his hand up, kissing the inside of his wrist, feeling the arm Michael still had around him tighten more. Michael let out a choked breath, and Jeremy dropped his hand and turned in his arms, facing him.

Michael's chewing on his lip, trying to still the quivering of it, and Jeremy smiles sadly, lifting his hands up and cupping Michael's cheeks, thumbs brushing the skin underneath his eyes. Michael lets out a breathy laugh.

“I'm so sorry that happened, Michael,” Jeremy says softly, shifting to get into a comfortable position, and Michael shakes his head a little, crooked smile forming.

“I'm a lot better now. I realized that I wasn't the one wrong here, it's him.” Michael blushes lightly, and Jeremy feels the heat of his face under the palms of his hands. “Besides, I've got more people in my life now that I love.”

Jeremy, feeling some level of confidence, speaks at that. “Oh? Who would th-those people be?”

“... Are you asking what I think you're asking?” Michael inquires and Jeremy hesitates a few seconds before nodding a tiny nod. Michael just hugs him closer, pulling Jeremy to his chest so he can't see his face anymore, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Michael speaks then, and Jeremy tries to keep his composure even though it tickles. “What would you do if the answer was yes?”

Jeremy's hands clench in the back of Michael's sweatshirt, and Michael, in response, kisses the side of his neck. That gesture boosts his confidence ever so slightly and he speaks, still in a whisper. “Stay.”

“... And if it was no?”

“Stay until it's yes. Then stay even longer,” Jeremy answers softly, twisting the fabric in his hands a little. Michael kisses up to his temple and Jeremy smiles under the attention. One of Michael's hands slips away for a few seconds, the music halting in its playing. Jeremy's curiosity is peaked, but he also doesn't really want to untangle himself from Michael to see what he's doing.

Michael sets down the controller and winds his arms around Jeremy again. All it takes is a few seconds for Jeremy to realize what's playing.

“Seriously?” he giggled, Sharpay Evans’ voice loud and clear. Michael giggles himself and pulls back so that he can see his face.

“For so long I was lost, so good to be found,” he sings along, voice a few octaves higher, and Jeremy continues laughing. “I'm loving having you around!”

“Of all songs… you choose this one?”

“Hey, don't knock _High School Musical._ It was either this, Carly Rae Jepsen, or Britney Spears.”

Jeremy snorts at this and snickers out, “You are such a gay stereotype.”

Michael abruptly kisses him, and Jeremy loses his train of thought, melting into it. Michael pulls back just as quick, though, and Jeremy finds himself chasing his lips. Michael tilts his head and nods.

“Yeah. Guess I am, babe.”

That flower of love unfurls in Jeremy's heart again, leaving his body warm and his heart soft, mind tapering out into blurs on the edges. He was entirely focused on Michael and the happiness he truly felt in this moment, cupping Michael's face with his hands once again, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“You're so fucking cheesy, Heere,” Michael giggles, fingers lightly tracing down his spine. Jeremy grins against his forehead.

“I try my hardest.” Leaning back, he kisses the tip of Michael's nose. “My answer would've been yes… by the way.”

He draws back just in time to see Michael's lip quiver a little. Michael's hands travel to the back of his head and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes.

“... Thank you,” he chokes out, and even with the awkward angle, Jeremy can see his smile, and he mirrors it.

So time continues, and with it come changes, such as this.

There's the change where Jeremy's heart glows and beats loudly for the tall boy in the red sweatshirt, the cute boy who saved him from imaginary demons and left him with his hoodie for safety. The boy who fully supported Jeremy and caught him when he fell, falling with him.

Well, not falling yet.

But he knows he will soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um, yeah, so anyway, @ pears, national pumpkin spice day belongs in November, sorry, i don't make the rules
> 
> Edit :: haha lmao im taking forever and a half to write the last chapter but in the meantime I made a Tumblr (strawnberrylemonade) it's pretty blank atm but come scream at me or something if you want


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